


The Misinterpretations that Define Me and You

by electriczombie



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bondage, Cole POV, Comedy, Dorian POV, I guess this qualifies as a slow burn by now though it's more an awkward burn, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Slow Burn, and then there will be demons and mind shenanigans, it alternates!, stay tuned, this is gonna be at least triple gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electriczombie/pseuds/electriczombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is too curious for his own good. Cole is exactly curious enough for his own good. Romancing spirits is certainly a learning experience. Bull finds the whole situation hilarious. (Or, to put it another way: What happens when Dorian finds himself falling for Cole against his better judgement, and Cole sees an opportunity to help a charming friend in a way he had never thought of? A lot. A lot happens.)<br/>---<br/>Character-exploration driven romance time! I really wanted to explore how Colemance might work, especially with Dorian - Dorian's got the people skills to handle it, and he deserves to be doted on by someone so interested in making him happy. The adoribull is a secondary ship, but I'm committed to making both romances work simultaneously, so wish me luck! Sera and Adaar show up as mostly irrelevant teenage goofballs.</p><p>Edited to change caveat: I now know where the plot is going, and it is gonna be a wild ride. It's gonna involve the Fade and lots of demons and someone's gonna get hurt. But first, everyone is gonna make out a bunch. Among other, more explicit things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Go Get Compromised

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles will be from Of Montreal's album Skeletal Lamping, because I'm pretentious.
> 
> ETA: Whoah I realized the bird part was totally inspired by this: http://inklie.tumblr.com/post/110430175915/im-sorry-vivienne-ur-too-gorgeous-for-this . Credit where credit is due! Cryptomnesia, amirite?

There was a thud from the rafters.

Dorian, the Iron Bull, and Krem looked up from their cards. The stairwell in the Herald's Rest was alarmingly good at conducting sound, such that events upstairs often sounded as though they were right next to you. Sera and Adaar had discovered this in an indecorous fashion, which bothered Sera not in the least but led the more bashful Adaar to confine their escapades to her own room from then on.

“Alright, whose fault do you want to bet that one was?” asked Krem. “Sera or Cole?”

“Are you kidding me?” Dorian asked, leaning back in his chair. “I think we can make a pretty safe bet that any and all destruction in this tavern is Sera's and Sera's fault alone.”

“Bet taken. Five silvers.” Bull reached into his pocket and set the coins on the table. Dorian arched an eyebrow. “Hey, you said it was a safe bet. You're a man of your word, aren't you?” Bull tapped on the coins impatiently. Dorian sighed, rolled his eyes, and fished out five silvers of his own.

Krem smirked. “You two are too cute. And too distractable.” He placed his card on the pile and raised his hand to slap it – but Bull reacted almost as quickly, pinning Krem's hand under his own with a slam. Krem hissed and delicately withdrew his hand. “Andraste's tits, Bull, it's just Par Vollen Nugscrew. You'd think I was trying to assassinate you.” He shook out his injured wrist.

“Hey, I play to win, in life and in cards,” Bull grunted. “Anyway, you won the hand. Quit complaining.”

“Fine, fine.” Krem shot Dorian a jokingly exasperated look, and Dorian shook his head in commiseration as he put his next card down.

“No!!” That anguished shout had come from upstairs, and was most definitely Cole, not Sera.

Bull cocked his head and grinned at Dorian. “Looks like you'll need to pay up.” He slid the coins on the table towards himself.

“What?” Dorian protested. “No. That doesn't prove anything. For all we know, Sera is tormenting him again. She's been trying to get a hold of his hat for weeks now-”

“Someone's a sore loser,” Krem taunted.

“I am not! I'm just saying, the bet isn't settled yet. Not until we actually know what happened.” Dorian pushed his chair out from the table and stood. “I'll go check and come back down, and then if Sera really wasn't involved I'll be a good sport and pay my debts.” Bull smirked coyly at him, and Dorian glared back in response. Krem chuckled and made a little heart with his hands, and Bull raised his eyebrow and mimed a much more obscene action in response. Dorian flipped both of them off and went upstairs.

* * *

 

Truth be told, he wasn't just going upstairs to win the bet. Dorian was actually mildly concerned. Cole wasn't prone to accidentally breaking things, or to outbursts apropos of nothing. He had been acting funny since that outing with Solas, Varric, and Adaar to the Hinterlands, though. Varric swore it was something about Cole becoming “more human,” but Dorian was suspicious. One couldn't change the fundamental nature of oneself just by making a decision not to forgive someone you had already failed to forgive long ago. There was a slim chance it might work that way for spirits, but if there was anything Dorian had learned from years of studying magic, it was that tidy explanations never held true under further scrutiny. There had to be something else at work, and it could be potentially dangerous. Or at the very least, traumatic for Cole himself. Outside of professional interest, Dorian did have a certain fondness for the good-natured spirit. There were so few genuinely selfless people in the world, and so few who were full of such endless curiosity – even if the individual in question was perhaps not a person, per se.

Dorian found Cole on the third floor as usual, hat still on, crouched over something. (Damn, so Bull really did win the bet.) Cole lifted his head, though not enough to actually look Dorian in the eye, and Dorian realized that he had been crying. “Cole? Are you alright?” Cole didn't respond, instead staring again at the object on the floor. Dorian squinted at whatever the crumpled thing was – it was hard to make out in the dim lighting, and it was roughly the same shade as the floor. Only the wind ruffling a tuft of down allowed Dorian to realize that it was a dead sparrow. “Cole, are you... crying about a dead bird?” Cole solemnly nodded.

Well, this was stupid. Dorian tried not to think too hard about how embarrassed he was for Cole, though he seemed too engrossed in his miniature funeral to bother reading his mind. If Cole had been a small child, maybe Dorian would have sympathized, but he was a grown man who slit throats for a living. Watching someone casually knife an unsuspecting woman between the shoulder blades and stare as she bled out could really change your view of a person. “Okay then.” Dorian turned to leave.

“I'm sorry,” Cole said quietly. “I know it's silly. I didn't mean to bother you.” Great, so Cole had read him after all. Dorian felt a rising shame at having thought so uncharitably about him, though he knew the spirit probably heard far worse on a regular basis, and it's not as though the rules of etiquette applied to mind reading anyway. Cole looked up at him again. “It's just- I saw the bird hit the rafter, flying, then falling, not understanding, and I couldn't do anything to stop it but I thought maybe I could help, so I went to pick it up but I held too hard, crushing, and it stopped moving and stopped breathing and its heart stopped beating and I think it's dead forever now.” Cole's voice broke on the last few words, and he covered his mouth in embarrassment as tears started streaming down his face, clearly not having intended to blurt out so much.

Okay, now Dorian felt horrible. He didn't know much about Cole's past, but he did know that for whatever reason, accidental death horrified him like nothing else. Dorian knew Cole had been going through a difficult time, and he had reacted by barging in on a private emotional moment that no one else had been meant to see. And now he had reduced Cole to sobbing and hiccuping in front of him, and he couldn't help but feel like it was his fault. “No, I- I'm sorry. It's not silly. You're allowed to cry about the bird,” Dorian apologized lamely. For some reason this just made Cole cry harder. The fact that it wasn't much of an apology probably didn't help. Dorian sighed and went to sit down next to Cole. “Hey. It's going to be all right, alright? Shh.” He put an arm around Cole, and Cole rested his head on Dorian's bare shoulder.

They sat there for a second, Cole continuing to cry unabated. Absentmindedly, Dorian started to stroke Cole's hair, then stopped. That was weird. He wasn't sure why he had instinctively done that. Now that he was thinking about it, though, his mind started to race. This whole situation seemed too intimate, somehow. Dorian knew he was just trying to comfort his friend, but he felt warm, slightly electrified. Being cried on felt unreasonably good. Was Dorian so damn thirsty for affection that he couldn't hug another man without turning it into a sex thing? A month ago he wouldn't have put it past himself, but he would have thought Bull had fucked the desperation out of him by now. At the very least, he didn't need to stoop to lusting after bizarre and completely unattractive spirits. “Though he's not all _that_ bad. He has a sweet face, in a wet dog sort of way, I'll grant him that. And I've always had a thing for blonds-”

Dorian stopped mid-thought when he came to the horrifying realization that his thoughts were being echoed in a low whisper. He shoved Cole away, forcefully. “Stop _doing_ that!”

“I- I'm sorry!” Cole raised his hands frantically, face bright red with embarrassment. “When you're right there, I can't _not_ read you!”

Dorian stood up hurriedly, brushing attic dust off his pants. “Okay, just – forget that ever happened, okay? That never happened.”

“I don't think I can do that anymore-”

“Well, try.”

“But... did you want something from me?” Cole looked up at him. Dorian noticed, unwillingly, that he had blue-grey eyes.

“No. No, I don't want anything from you.”

“You're sure?”

“Absolutely sure.” Dorian hurried downstairs, not looking back, trying his hardest not to think about anything at all, especially the fact that he was not sure in the slightest.

* * *

 

Bull and Krem were both staring at Dorian when he arrived. “What took you so long?” Krem asked.

“Yeah, we were starting to wonder if the kid finally snapped and knifed you.”

“Nope. That didn't happen. Nothing happened,” Dorian said, a little too fast.

Krem's eyes narrowed. “A little quick with the denials, aren't we?”

“There was a dead bird involved. It was weird. You don't want to know.” Dorian threw up his hands in what he hoped was an exaggerated enough gesture to ward off inquiry. “Anyway, Bull wins the bet.”

Bull chuckled. “Nice!” He slid the coins into his hand. “Anyway, we still haven't finished our game. Your move, mage boy.”

“Right.” Dorian put down a card.

After a moment's pause, Krem slapped it. “How did you not see that one, man? You're really out of it.”

“Head in the game, pal,” said Bull, tapping Dorian on the forehead. Dorian playfully swatted his hand away and scoffed. As Bull played the next card, Dorian stared at him, trying to wash away any residual intrusive thoughts with the handsome picture before him. Bull was properly handsome indeed, Dorian thought as he ran his gaze along Bull's firm jawline and muscular neck. Even if he was a bit grey. And had horns. And was over seven feet tall. “Hey, Dorian. It's your turn. I know I'm gorgeous, but you really have to snap out of it.” Bull ruffled Dorian's hair.

“Right, right.” Dorian put his card down, and managed to notice the match right before Bull and Krem did, his hand just barely landing first on the pile. _Demons are just the natural next step, you incorrigible pervert_ , a nasty voice hissed in the back of Dorian's head. He tried his best to ignore it. Maker knew he was going to need some practice ignoring himself.


	2. Id Engager

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got longer than I had planned because it suddenly turned into Psychonauts? You'll see what I mean. Anyway, Cole POV this time. Nothing terribly saucy happens yet; that'll be for next chapter. There will also be more Bull next chapter. Those things are related. (BUT WHO WILL SAUCE WHOM??)

Cole stood up. Whatever had just happened had been important.

He scooped up the bird from the floor. He could still feel its last thoughts – frightened, fighting to flee and fly but failing, pain and pounding heart – but he wrenched himself away and set the body on the windowsill. The bird was dead, and maybe a hawk would come and eat it, and then at least the hawk would be happy. At least, that's what Cole told himself, though it was hard to believe that something full of fluttering life moments ago could be completely – Nope. No more of that. Cole had been dwelling on things too often lately, but he was also getting better at making himself stop thinking. Another human thing? Probably another human thing.

Dorian was more important than the bird, though. (That was another human thing, some people always being more important than other people and animals. Cole was having a harder time keeping that one in mind.) Cole started pacing as he thought. He had noticed patterns in hurt, patterns like the patterns in clouds and caves. Physical pain was like long fiery scratches on the outside of a mind, rarely scarring once they were quenched. Some hurt, the kind that was easier to fix, was shaped more like a crater – a vanished lover, an empty larder, a lost fortune. And then there were wells. Everyone had at least a few wells, hurts that were so deep Cole couldn't see whatever festered at the bottom. Maybe they were bottomless, and you could just fall into them forever. Even getting near the edge was frightening – but also mesmerizing. Cole had shied away from the wells at first. They were, he sensed, the exact kind of suffering that despair demons loved, the kind that got deeper the more you struggled. Cole usually focused on healing the shallower forms of pain. There were plenty of those, and they were easy to fix – and he was less likely to make a mistake, and he was all too aware of how easy it was for him to make mistakes. Leave the wells to the demons to drink from or the humans to work through; Cole was too afraid he would fall in.

But maybe... Cole continued to pace, trying to hear his own footsteps on the floorboards over the thoughts of the people in the inn below. (They were the usual crowd, but always entertaining. The bartender liked to watch people as much as Cole did, and it was interesting to see how people were distorted through his cynical lens. Above him, Sera danced to Maryden's songs in her room, hands clasped above her head, shaking her hips. Cole wished he could like Sera.) ...Maybe things were different now. Now Cole knew that he was no demon, and he was beginning to learn to think like a human, though he suspected it would never come naturally to him. Maybe he could try his hand at healing the kind of hurt only humans were supposed to be able to. (And elves and dwarves and all those things, of course. Were they types of humans? Cole certainly hoped so; he had never learned how to tell the difference between races, and frankly he didn't care that much.) And Dorian... Dorian had felt something towards him that was very close to one of those wells. And he had wanted Cole's help, on some level.

“On some level.” Another human thing. People would switch between wanting one thing and wanting the complete opposite, but somehow the want for the first thing would still be there. Yet another mystery Cole needed to learn. Maybe helping Dorian with whatever he wanted could help Cole help himself. What did Dorian want, anyway? Cole understood enough about humans to get that it was something relating to sex, but he also understood that pretty much everything somehow related to sex. And he couldn't imagine why Dorian would want to have sex with him, anyway. Cole knew he was not very attractive, and Dorian had the ability to seduce practically anyone he met – and had already chosen the Iron Bull. Curious indeed. There were too many mysteries nagging at Cole's mind to pass this one up, he decided. He would give Dorian some time to think – and he would listen.

 

* * *

 

As much as he would like to ignore most of his time in the Spire, Skyhold's library gave Cole a weird sense of nostalgia for those days. The thoughts of mages were detailed, delicate, diagrams of unseen worlds, and the physical world surrounding them was so quiet, just the rustling and echoes of papers and robes. Plus, sometimes there were birds.

Cole was deeply glad he had not lost the ability to become invisible. When he had lost making people forget, he was briefly terrified that he would lose all the skills that made him useful to the Inquisition and become useless and helpless. Fortunately, invisibility was a much easier and more common thing to trick the world into doing. Cole slipped into the library, no one so much as lifting their head from their book, and stepped up onto the banister in the center of the room. He liked being invisible while walking on banisters, because then no one saw him and told him to stop walking on banisters. Plus, it took a little concentration to do both at once, especially while standing on polished wood, which just made it more fun. Cole walked carefully around the perimeter of the banister. The mages continued to not notice him, and he doubted they would.

Dorian was at his usual desk, reading some dense tome – or at least trying to. His eyes kept flicking back to the start of the same paragraph, trying to piece the sentences together. Good, those thoughts were easy to ignore. Cole crouched on the banister and searched Dorian's mind for thoughts about himself. They were simple to find, itching to be brought into consciousness. It seemed like Dorian had already done some ruminating about Cole himself; the thoughts were well-defined, arcing in elegant loops, and yet pushed far back into a corner, behind a wall. Like a yarn ball forgotten behind a bookshelf. So Dorian was trying not to let himself think about Cole, and failing. Interesting. Cole began to unravel and read the train of thought. The thoughts were... sweet? _Soft_ _skin, soft_ _hands._ _Hands open to help. To help each other?_ _His hand in mine_ _. Soft voice, q_ _uiet whispers, poems. He speaks like a poet._ _He is kind, too kind. No man is so kind. S_ _oft touches,_ _soft lips,_ _soft kisses_ _._ _Lying together and looking up at the stars in wonder..._

This was... heartwarming! No one thought such nice things about Cole in the front of their minds where he could read them easily. He should pry more often. There was more to it, though, and the thoughts grew tangled as they got deeper. Cole picked up the ball of yarn. Then he stared at it. Where was he?? Was this not the library? This was a library, for sure, but there had not been a literal ball of yarn in the library. Was this a Fade thing? This felt like a Fade thing. Well, that was new. Time to figure out how this worked.

Cole noticed a strand trailing away from the yarn, behind the bookshelf. He pushed the bookshelf aside and stepped into the stone labyrinth behind it. As he followed the yarn – the echoes of his footsteps here sounded almost real – he noticed it becoming coarser, and then turning to chain. The stone began giving way to a crystalline substance. A red one.

Cole stopped dead in his tracks. Though he hadn't done this trick of physically exploring a mind before, he still recognized the place he was about to go. Everyone had a place like this in their mind; it was where their nightmares were drawn from, and where their shames and secrets were stored. Though Cole was quite bad at stopping himself from repeating fleeting thoughts, he recognized thoughts that came from here, and tried his best to hold his tongue when one came across him. It was hard with some people, like Blackwall, for whom that part of his mind was so close to the front; Cole had to constantly dance around his secrets, sometimes letting small fragments and loosely tied thoughts slip through. Inquisitor Adaar's mind was a cluttered mess, nightmares interspersed with daydreams, and it was almost impossible to know which was which before speaking them aloud. For other people it was easier. Solas's mind was as elegantly laid out as an Orlesian palace, and much more well guarded. The one time Cole had even gotten close to one of his darker thoughts, he somehow ended up saying “ _I will warn you once, my friend_ ” in a voice not quite his own, and an image of fangs glinting in the darkness flashed across his mind. Cole trusted Solas, but there were a lot of things he wouldn't dare try with that one.

The dark part of Dorian's mind was guarded as anyone else's would be, in this case with a fiery barrier like the ones sometimes seen in mage towers. Cole hesitated before it. He knew this part of anyone's mind was full of thoughts they didn't want to think, thoughts that didn't agree with the rest of them – usually things dredged up from the realms of demons in dreams, haunting things. Whatever he saw in here was equally as likely to be something Dorian wanted as something he feared terribly; the two were often impossible to tell apart. Given how likely it was to be grotesque, was it worth it? Cole looked back at the labyrinth behind him. It was dark, and stretched on much farther than he could see. He realized he had no idea if going back would even return him to the place he started from. Well, better keep moving forward then. Cole set his hand lightly against the energy of the barrier, feeling the licks of heat, and willed it into appearing as a locked door. With some wavering, it obliged, and Cole set to picking the lock.

The door swung open, and suddenly Cole was falling. He was still holding the chain, which rattled and creaked as the rust cut his hands. Around him, everything was red, blood red or fire red or lyrium red, andcriscrossed with chains. There were echoes everywhere, echoes mostly of cruel laughter. Cole could pick out a few voices he knew – Dorian himself, for one, and Bull too, but also Cassandra, and Vivienne, and Varric. Anything visible here was even more phantasmigorical than a daydream; visions sometimes flashed by, sometimes hovered in the corner of his vision, but nothing was clear.

Cole tried to focus on wherever the jangling chain he held led. He could make out two figures, surrounded by a network of chains. Dorian and himself. Good, so this quest was proving fruitful after all – though what the vision meant, he was going to have no way of knowing. Cole squinted at himself. He was nude; Dorian was wearing a magister's robe, but was completely exposed in front. Both of them were laughing, cynically, at each other. Both of them were smeared with blood from innumerable scratches and bite marks. Cole was shackled, and Dorian held the chains; but Dorian was chained by each limb, and around his neck, and Cole held quite a few of these chains himself. Great, was this bondage stuff? Cole had read enough of the Iron Bull's mind to know that he definitely did not like bondage stuff. People didn't usually use metal chains and shackles, though. Besides, that chain around Dorian's neck looked like it hurt a lot – it was pulled tight, nearly choking him, and the skin around it was rubbed raw. Where did that chain lead? Who was holding it? It led up... Cole craned his neck upward. It looked like the library ceiling, and it felt like Cole was falling off the library banister. This was happening in real life; that actually was the library ceiling, and Cole was actually falling off the library banister. He twisted and scrambled for purchase, and was just able to catch one of the rungs.

“Cole?! Are you okay?” Dorian came rushing over to the banister to peer down at him. “What happened?”

Cole looked up at normal, clothed, not-covered-in-blood-and-chains Dorian. He supposed he was visible now, too. “I'm fine. I slipped. I think I got distracted. Or fell asleep.” He hoisted himself up over the banister, and flipped to land on his feet. It was a very smooth motion, but he also nearly dislocated his shoulder. His hat stayed on, though.

Dorian blinked at his gymnastic feat. “You should probably try not to fall asleep on banisters. Though it is warm in here, I half fell asleep while reading myself.”

“Okay, I'll try not to do that.”

“Wait, why were you in here? I didn't hear you come in...” Dorian eyed him suspiciously. “Were you... spying on me?”

“No. Well, a little. But I do that all the time.” Cole belatedly realized that that did not help his case.

“Is this about yesterday in the inn with the bird?”

“Yes,” Cole admitted.

Dorian sighed. “Cole, you have to understand when people don't actually want or need your help with something.”

“You did want my help! I heard it!”

“Maybe a little, at the time.” His expression took on a hint of a scowl. “But not anymore.”

“Why? Whatever the problem is, it's not gone. I can still help.”

“There are a lot of reasons someone might want something in the moment but not really want it. For instance...” Cole heard the words _dignity_ and _principle_ flash through Dorian's mind and be discarded. “Safety. Something might make you happy in the short term but have a high risk of making you unhappy in the long term. It wouldn't be worth it to pursue.”

“Safety? Are you... afraid?” Cole cocked his head. “You don't have to be afraid of me.”

“I'm not afraid of you. I'm trying to explain why you should be afraid for yourself.” Cole heard Dorian having second thoughts about that statement, but deciding it was too late to take it back. “Anyway, it doesn't matter why. The point is I refuse your offer. Don't concern yourself with the complications of my life. You already do what you do well. Keep doing that.” Dorian turned away and returned to his book.

Afraid for himself? Cole mused on that. He didn't understand what the risk Dorian was talking about was, but combined with what he had seen in the dream with the chains, the implications made him nervous. What could Dorian do to Cole that was so bad? Well, he was a mage... Maybe it had to do with mages binding demons? That was indeed a disturbing topic, and Cole had no idea why Dorian would want to do it to him. Solas knew a lot about it, though... Maybe he should ask Solas? He was right there, after all. Cole lifted himself over the balcony and jumped down.

He landed easily in a crouch, but with a louder noise than he would have liked. Cole looked up to see Solas staring at him from his scaffold and Dorian staring at him from the library again, both equally aghast. “Are you all right?” Solas asked.

“I'm fine!” Cole called up to both of them. “It's not that long a fall, it doesn't hurt!”

“Cole, what the actual shit?” Dorian asked.

“It's faster than taking the stairs!”

“Rogues,” Dorian muttered. “They're all insane. Solas, you deal with him.” He left.

Solas looked down at Cole, clearly ruffled but regaining his composure. “Hello, Cole. What is it that you wanted?”

 


	3. Beware our Nubile Miscreants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is late! It's been a busy week, my boss sprung a big presentation on me out of nowhere. To make up for it, it's a double-chapter update! You didn't come here to hear about my work woes, you came here for Qunari cock, spirit smooches, and elves being jerks. Well, these adventures and more await you in this chapter! Just in case I haven't made it totally clear, this means the Bull gets ridden in this chapter ;) Tags have been updated accordingly.

Cole ran a finger along the black line between sky and jagged rock on the mural. “Wardens, but warding what? How quickly heroes turn on their heel, how fast they act on their fear.” Those words were from Solas's mind, but they were etched into the painting as well. Art was funny that way. “Nightmare turned terror, tyrant. Too demonic a desire or too human an ambition?”

“Your words are as perceptive as always, my friend. You might not want to touch the paint, though. It's wet.” Solas spoke evenly, without judgment; that was one of the things Cole liked about Solas, that he never expected him to behave any particular way. He did have paint all over his hand now, though, it was true. Cole wiped the paint on his pants. Solas knelt to rest his brush in the water bucket. “Was there something you wanted to ask me? Or were you just happening by?”

“Yes,” said Cole, hesitantly. Though he wasn't reading anything of note from Solas's mind – to him, the mage was as clear and shining as a cloudless sky, as usual – Cole was still having second thoughts about telling him what had just happened. Second thoughts before he acted: another new human thing. Cole should maybe start keeping a list.

“You'll have to tell me yes to which one.” Solas sat down on the edge of the scaffold; Cole scaled the ladder to sit next to him.

“Solas...” Cole paused. Why was he so reluctant to speak? Here was his trusted friend, looking at him expectantly; and yet, something new in Cole whispered that certain secrets were meant to be kept. Cole tried to approach the matter from an oblique angle – maybe then it would be simpler. “What do you do if someone's... interested in you?”

“Interested?” Solas smiled, very faintly. “In the romantic sense, then?”

“I... don't know what sense.” Cole swung his feet, enjoying the lack of ground. “In the sexual sense, probably.” Solas stopped smiling at that, but Cole still didn't hear any pain from him. “And in other senses too.”

“I see. And how do you feel about this person?”

“I like him a lot. He's my friend.” Belatedly, Cole thought to search Solas for a reaction to the pronoun. Still nothing.

“And beyond that?”

“He's my friend,” Cole repeated, with a burgeoning confusion. “I want to help him. Within him is a chill, a craving. Searching for something soft, to soothe the sadness, wanting for warmth. For a kind soul in a cruel world. I can be the comfort, the cure. I can help him.”

Solas nodded slowly. “I see.” He drew one leg up to his chest. “But you would want to help anyone in that way, would you not? You are compassion. To sense that someone wants help like that from you must be hard to ignore.”

“Anyone? Maybe.” That was all this was, right? Just a new and interesting way to help. Or was there something else to it? “But... He's my friend. He cares about me, too. He and I... we're important to each other.” That did feel like part of it.

“Be that as it may, ideally that wouldn't be all there is to it. Tempting as it may be to be a port in the storm for each other, real love is born from happiness, not hurt.” Solas stared away, at the rays of dawn that began his mural. “Your friend is right about you, Cole. You are a kind person in a cruel world. And this leaves you vulnerable. You run the risk of giving too much of yourself to others, and being hollowed out by receiving nothing in return.” Solas's voice became quieter. “And then... you may come to love the hurting, instead of the helping, because others' hurt is all that keeps you going. And it may change you, back into that darker thing you once were.”

Cole solemnly remembered Dorian's words: _I'm trying to explain why you should be afraid for yourself._ He shivered. “But does it have to be like that? Can't we just help each other, and be happy, like other humans do? We don't have to just be tools for each other.” He remembered the chains.

“That depends. Ordinarily relationships between spirits and mortals don't end well, but I know you are capable of great and surprising things. May I ask who this friend of yours is? Do I know him?”

And here was the part he had been avoiding. The secret had coiled a hard shell around itself in the pit of Cole's stomach, and he struggled to choke it out. “It's Dorian.”

“Ah.” There it was, finally: the distant rumble of vicious thoughts, the ones Cole had feared were coming, the stormclouds that began to mass at the edges of that clear sky. Solas's expression only darkened minutely, though. “You do realize that Dorian is from Tevinter, yes?”

“Yes? Tevinter... towering tempest, throne of tyranny.” Those weren't his thoughts, just ones he managed to skim up when trying to understand the concept. Well, the ones that started with the same sound, anyway. Those were easier to find.

“Where Dorian is from, humans have no trouble seeing even other members of their own race as instruments to be used for whatever ends they see fit. When it comes to my people, the thought that we might deserve respect doesn't even cross their mind. We're merely furnishings that happen to be capable of movement and speech. And your people...” There was very little blue left in that sky now. “The idea that you might be _people_ in any sense is laughable to them. Beasts to tame, at best. But more likely, they see you as fuel. As expendable kindling for their machinations.”

Cole's thoughts were red, and metal rattled. “No. Dorian's not like that.”

“People do not change their nature so easily, my friend. You must understand how few others see you as I do. You are not a person to him. He has never learned to think that. You are a creature to be studied, dissected, and thrown away once you have been of use to him.”

“He wanted my help! I heard him!” Cole protested feebly. His heart was beginning to pound.

“Your powers of hearing... have weakened considerably since our outing, yes?”

“I have to listen harder,” Cole admitted. “I don't just overhear things anymore. I have to point my mind at them.”

“Have you considered that you might not be hearing the same things? That it may be easier for others to hide their true intentions? That what you learn from the surface may be a ruse they are telling themselves, and that you may have to dig deeper to understand what they are actually thinking?”

Cole understood the implications all too well: the sweet, loving threads had been the lie, the chains had been the truth. “But... Dorian isn't like the others. He isn't a bad person.”

“He doesn't want to be a bad person. There's a difference.” Solas put a hand on Cole's shoulder and used the other to lift his hat so he could see his eyes. His expression was a subtle combination of worry and anger. “Cole, you must listen to me. Dorian wants to hurt you, and if you let him, he _will_ hurt you. You must be wary of him. No matter how much need you feel from him, you must not let him trick you into helping him. Do you understand me?”

Cole nodded. He felt a little like crying, and a little like being sick.

“Good.” Solas patted his shoulder. “I care deeply about you, Cole. I have faith that if you so desire, you can find love one day. But you must be careful to survive until that day.”

“Thank you. I care about you too. Thank you for helping me.” Cole almost didn't feel grateful. He gripped the edge of the scaffold and dropped to the floor, not looking at Solas.

“While we're discussing self-preservation, maybe you can learn to use ladders instead of gravity?” Solas called down.

“Yes. I'll try.” Cole pulled his hat lower and went to the door. He needed quiet to think, and fresh air. Behind him, Solas picked up his brush and began to paint again.

 

* * *

 

 

A few days later, in dusty gloom pierced by afternoon rays, in a room under the ramparts near the Herald's Rest, Dorian was getting a damn good fucking.

He wanted to shout, but gagged as he was, he could only moan at a volume he hoped conveyed his meaning. Sweat dripped from his hair into his eyes, and he tried to crane his head to look at Bull, but the rope tying his wrists to the bedposts and Bull's weight on top of him prevented him. “What's that?” Bull murmured, leaning closer to Dorian. “Harder?” Dorian whined and nodded. Bull was a master of the excruciating slow burn, and Dorian had been close to the edge even before Bull first thrust into him. “Well, that's just too bad, my friend,” Bull whispered. “You know I go at my own pace.” He ran his teeth along the edge of Dorian's ear, and down his neck, hot breath mixing with cool air, and ran his rough hand slowly along Dorian's slick side. Dorian practically screamed into the gag. He ground himself against the rumpled bedsheets, desperate for release; failing, he bucked up against Bull's hips.

“Hey. Hey now. My pace, remember?” Bull dug one hand into Dorian's hair and began to thrust again, firmly but slowly. “There we go. Nice, right? You like that?” Dorian whimpered in assent. Each thrust went just a little bit deeper, just a little bit closer to the edge of perfection. The friction was delicate and maddening. “Good. I like it too. Nice and steady, yeah?” Bull gradually sped up, and Dorian responded eagerly, bucking almost violently, trying to push Bull just a little faster. His cock burned with need, and Dorian twisted his wrists, desperately wishing he could touch himself. Bull chuckled. “You just can't contain yourself, huh?” He slid his hands underneath Dorian, reaching up to touch his chest.

That touch was enough. With a shuddering gasp and one last thrust against the bed, Dorian came against his own chest, fire flashing in the back of his mind. “Hey!” Bull said with coy anger, cupping Dorian's chin with one massive hand and forcing him to look up. “You weren't supposed to finish before me. There'll be punishment for that later, you know.” Dorian nodded blissfully, breath slowing. “First things first, though. My turn.” Bull kissed Dorian's neck, then leaned back to place his hands on Dorian's hips and continued with elegant efficiency. Dorian was starting to feel sore, but it was the pleasant pain of satisfaction. After a minute, Bull finished with a grunt, pressing himself forward and arching his back. “Damn. Yes. Needed that.” He lowered himself back onto Dorian, and the two lay there for a moment, entwined, breathing together. Bull squeezed Dorian's hand, then withdrew and rolled onto his back.

“Here. Let me get you out of that stuff,” said Bull, catching his breath. He unbuckled the gag, and Dorian breathed deeply, running his tongue along his teeth.

“Well,” said Dorian faintly, “that certainly was something. Your talent continues to impress me, my friend.” He rolled his shoulder, which was becoming sore. “My arms, if you would?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm getting to it.” Bull lazily unknotted the rope from the bedposts. “As soon as you start talking, you start complaining. I really should leave the gag in longer.”

Dorian's left hand was freed, and he pulled it back and shook it out. “It's part of my charm, and you know it.” He wiped some of the sweat off his face. “Ugh, that thing always messes up my mustache. I hate it.”

“That's funny, cause I recall you asking for it repeatedly. And you look fine. Don't worry about it.” Bull freed Dorian's right hand, and pulled him upright for a long, breathless kiss, hand firm against the back of his head. Dorian savored the moment, and Bull withdrew a little too soon. “You want a towel?” he asked.

“Yes please.” Bull reached to grab two towels off the floor and handed one to Dorian. Dorian resented using a floor towel on his face, but that was the best possible option. He stood up and stretched before toweling the rest of himself off.

“Thanks for the view.” Bull slapped his ass. “Good to look over the territory I claimed.”

“I'd like to think that that particular land agreement involves mutual ownership,” said Dorian, wrapping the towel around himself and sitting back down. At least Bull had big towels. He leaned in for another kiss. Bull obliged, but a little too brusquely.

“You alright, man?” Bull asked when he leaned away.

“Alright? Much better than alright, thank you!” Dorian stroked Bull's cheek. “Why, did you not like it?”

Bull took Dorian's hand from his face and set it gently back down. “No, you were great. You did exactly what I wanted. Even that bit at the end. You know I planned that in my favor.”

“Rascal.”

Bull chuckled. “But I meant in general, though. You seem... distracted. And angrier at yourself than usual. And you keep touching my face. It's getting a little weird.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Maker forbid I like your face.”

“Hey, we both like each other's faces, otherwise we wouldn't be in this situation. I'm just not that much of a face-touchy guy, alright?”

“Alright, alright. I'll keep my hands to myself.” Dorian sighed and rubbed Bull's leg before putting his hands in his lap.

“So who's the other guy?”

“Excuse me??” Damn Bull and his powers of perception. He was almost as bad as a certain mind-reader.

“You know, the one you're thinking about? Have you done him yet?”

Dorian leaned back to give Bull an aghast look. “You're accusing me of cheating on you?”

Bull raised his hands. “I don't know what 'cheating' is supposed to mean here? Were you thinking we were in one of those arrangements where we don't have sex with other people? Because those are definitely not my thing.”

“No, no, you're free to have sex with whoever you want. I didn't mean it like that,” Dorian said. He wasn't sure how okay he would feel about Bull being with someone else, now that he thought about it. It was probably happening, but it was probably best that Bull didn't tell him.

“But... you don't want me to be okay with you sleeping around?” Bull raised his eyebrow.

“I... Yes? I don't know,” Dorian said. “We haven't really talked that part out.”

Bull shook his head. “See, this is what I mean. You and me are friends, yeah? We're great friends. And sometimes friends fuck. And sometimes it seems like you're okay with that, and sometimes it seems like you want... something else.”

Dorian shrugged. “Maybe I do. Does it matter? It's something I can't have. I have you instead.”

“Dorian, look.” Bull put an arm around his shoulder. “I hate to proselytize, but there's a reason monogamy isn't allowed under the Qun. The Qunari fundamentally believe that no one person can be all things. We each have our own role to play, and we fit together. And that means no one person can be your everything, either. I can't give you whatever it is you want from this guy. But that doesn't mean we can't have what we have and let you get what you want at the same time.”

“You really think that?” Dorian looped his arm around Bull's damp back, not quite reaching the other side. “Because in my experience, wanting to have everything usually ends up with me getting nothing. And anyway...” Dorian shook his head and sighed. He was quite sure Bull would change his tone if he knew they were talking about Cole. “I doubt it would work out between me and him anyway.”

“Is this about the thing where you think men who like men aren't allowed to have proper relationships and have to sneak around and fuck in the shadows? Because I'm never going to understand that particular hangup, and I don't want to hear about it.”

“It's partially that, but also...” Dorian smiled at trying to explain it. It was tempting to just tell Bull who he was talking about, but it wasn't worth the ridicule. This was all likely to come to nothing, anyway. “He's just... a little too different from me. I don't think it'd work out, anyway.”

“He's too different?” Bull snorted in disbelief. “Dorian, you and I seem to work out just fine, and I'm not even sure we're technically the same species.”

“That's a good question,” Dorian mused. “Human-qunari offspring are known to occur, rarely, but there's no report on whether those offspring are fertile, which is the true metric of speciation.” Meanwhile, human-demon offspring were almost certainly not a thing, or Dorian would have heard about them in his studies. Though he supposed theoretically, a demon could will itself into pregnancy after such a coupling...

“Okay, hopefully potential offspring are completely irrelevant to everyone's concerns here.” Thank the Maker Bull had voiced that, that train of thought had been getting weird. “Yours especially. Wait, unless you're talking about Krem. Shit, I didn't mean to assume. Is it Krem?”

“It's not Krem.” That was a pretty good guess at what 'too different' meant, actually.

“Good. Don't knock up Krem. That'd be awkward for everyone involved, and then we'd have a Vint baby running around.” Bull shuddered at the thought. “Anyway. Right. Look, I think you're making excuses for yourself not to get with this guy. Meanwhile, you're spending your time daydreaming about how great being with him would be, making yourself miserable. Cut it out. You gotta face this, Dorian. Talk to the guy. Tell him what you want, see if he's interested.”

“It's not as simple as that.”

“Oh, you'd be surprised at how often it is.” Bull gave Dorian a hearty slap on the back. Dorian choked. “Look, I believe in you, kid. I want you to be happy. You can damn well seduce this guy if you want to, and you can keep fucking me while you're at it, and you can have a grand time. Maybe you can even invite him in here.”

Dorian struggled not to burst out laughing at the thought of Bull and Cole... doing that. “You put too much faith in me for your own good, friend. But... maybe.” Could he really take Bull's advice? Dorian hadn't seriously entertained the thought of doing anything but rejecting Cole's advances. But Bull was right – relegating the spirit to his daydreams was going to end in nothing but awkward pining, and that was going to make Bull and Cole both uncomfortable, and then everyone would be unhappy. There was a better option, and all he had to do was take the gamble that it would work. “Alright. I'll try it. And I'll let you know how it goes. But alas, first I must tend to that whole saving the world business.” Dorian got off the bed and picked his clothes up on the floor. “Oh, and I can't possibly go out in public looking like this. Where's that mustache wax I left here?”

“Oh, I lent it to Rocky and he hasn't given it back yet.” Bull was leaning back casually in the bed, looking probably ready for an afternoon nap. Satisfaction played across his blunt features. “Thought it'd be funny to see him with a twirly stache.”

“You... You lent out my mustache wax??” Dorian sputtered, stopping midway through putting on his pants. “Bull, sometimes I really do hate you.”

“That's the spirit. Save that rage for next time. Assuming you don't waste all your energy on your new beau, of course. I'll understand.” Bull grinned. Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes as he pulled his clothes on and left, but as soon as he shut the door, he smoothed his hair and walked off with a spring in his step.

 


	4. All our Wizard Dreams are Still Not Impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They could probably retitle all of Dragon Age "Wizard Dreams" and it'd be a more accurate title. Anyway, here's the second part of this update. Finally, Cole gets some action!
> 
> By the way, I made a fanmix for this pairing! Maybe u like? Here it is! http://actual-mandible-garrus-labeouf.tumblr.com/post/114726232997/listen-here-how-to-download-friendly-fire
> 
> Or you could just listen to all of Skeletal Lamping. That works too. I won't blame you.
> 
> (PS: I hope you like my Adaar! She's a tiny dork child. I made her super young because I felt like it'd be interesting.)
> 
> (PPS: If you're reading, I'd love it if you'd comment! This is my first time writing in like... five years, so I'd appreciate constructive criticism!)

Unfortunately, things were not going nearly as well as Dorian had planned.

He probably should have known by now that things never did, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed, as well as a little concerned. By this point, he was sure that Cole was actively avoiding him. Usually, he saw the spirit around Skyhold regularly, lurking in random corners as was his tendency. This past week, though, Dorian hadn't seen hide nor hair of him. He would be concerned that Cole had gone missing, but today Dorian had seen him chatting with Eshaal Adaar in the great hall as though nothing was wrong. When Cole spotted Dorian approaching, he walked pointedly away without saying a word and vanished.

“Wow. Rude,” said Adaar, shocked. “I've only ever seen him do that to Vivienne. Did Cole decide you were too much of a prissy bitch for him, too?”

“Ah yes, Cole's the one being rude here,” Dorian replied.

Adaar blushed. “What? No, I meant that in a good way! You and Viv are my favorite prissy bitches!”

“Relax, friend. No offense taken.” He did find it hilarious how easily the Inquisitor became flustered. Her lisp got worse when she was tongue-tied, too. “But yes, I have no idea what's up with Cole, but he's been avoiding me all week. Did he tell you anything?”

“Nope. I was just telling him that him, you, me, and Varric are going to the Exalted Plains tomorrow, and he seemed fine with it.”

“Not bringing your paramour?”

“That word means Sera, right?” Dorian wasn't sure if Adaar's vocabulary was unusually small or whether this was just what seventeen-year-old peasant girls were like. “Nah, I asked her, but she hates it there. Too many Dalish, and also something about the whole place smelling like burning corpses.”

“And I find that burning corpse aroma so charming.”

“Really?”

“No, Eshaal. That was sarcasm.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know? You're a necromancer and whatnot!” Adaar scratched the base of her horn, a nervous tic of hers. “Anyway, you and Cole are going to get along on the trip, right?”

“I certainly hope so. It's up to him, though. I have no idea why he's so upset with me.”

“Did you, like... do something?”

“Not that I know of?” Fortunately, Adaar was not nearly as perceptive as her bullish countryman, and probably didn't catch that Dorian wasn't telling her the whole story. The facts probably wouldn't enlighten her any more than him, though. Dorian could surmise that Cole was uncomfortable with his attraction, but that was a pretty radical switch from his initial eager pursuit, and this was a rather extreme reaction. What had caused him to change his mind so drastically, Dorian had no idea.

“Right, well, maybe you two can patch it up on the road tomorrow in between fixing up forts and trying to get the Dalish not to hate us. I can't help you with it now, though, I gotta get down to the Undercroft. I've got an appointment with Dagna to make my hammer shoot lightning. It's gonna be badass.” Eshaal's chubby face lit up at the thought.

“That sounds incredibly badass, yes.”

“I know, right? I'm so excited!” Adaar skipped over to the basement door. “See you tomorrow, 10 AM?”

“Ten in the morning sharp,” said Dorian, knowing Adaar would be there at 10:20 at the earliest.

“So excited for thunder hammer,” Adaar sang, and left. Dorian smirked after her. Young and foolish as the Inquisitor was, he had to admit she brought an infectious enthusiasm to their little organization. At the very least, an expedition to the plains with her would be exciting enough to take Dorian's mind off of other things.

 

* * *

 

Dorian was wrong about the expedition being exciting.

Banishing the demons from the first fort had been fun enough, but then Adaar had gotten distracted with finding those damned shards. One had ended up on top of a ruined building somehow, and Adaar had been desperately trying to reach it for about half an hour now.

“Look, twinkletoes, I just don't think it's gonna happen,” Varric tried to convince the Inquisitor after her umpteenth fall off the roof. “I think that thing's stuck up there forever. Or maybe we can come back with a saw and get it down?”

“No, no, I got this. New plan: I'm gonna run up that beam as fast as I can, and then make a flying leap over to the shard. It's gonna be parkour as fuck, it's gonna work great.”

Varric sighed and ran his palm over his face. “Twinkles, your parkour skills are nowhere near as good as you think they are, and I'm pretty sure you made your brand of 'parkour' up anyway. I thought you had agreed to stop 'practicing' on the ramparts ever since you fell on that scout?”

“Hey, she only needed a few stitches! Watch, I totally have this.” Adaar took a deep breath and began to sprint up the beam. When she landed on the roof, the shingles gave way and deposited her on the ground with an ungainly clatter, further damaging the already hopeless ruin. Adaar picked herself back up and made to try again, coughing from the dust cloud she raised from the ground.

“Twinkles. Stop. At least let me try it, I weigh less.”

Adaar stopped midway up the beam to shoot a glare at Varric. “You're calling me fat?” she squealed.

“No, I'm calling you twice my height! If not me, then get Cole to do it. He's got great balance.”

“Alright, you're not wrong,” Eshaal sighed. “Where'd he go though?” Adaar peered around for him, then stumbled and tripped off the beam. She managed to land on her feet this time. “Probably ran off after seeing a pretty flower or something. Dorian, go look for him.” She nodded at Dorian. He realized from her meaningful look that she meant to give him a chance to talk to Cole and reconcile. Despite her naivete, Adaar was reasonably skilled with her social engineering, and she wouldn't let unrest brew between two of her friends if she had any say in the matter. For that, Dorian had to admit he was grateful.

“Roger that. I think I saw him heading that way, I'll go check.” Dorian left to enter the tangle of powder-blue and brick-red ruins. His footsteps crunched in the spring frost as the sounds of Adaar's leaping and Varric's arguing faded behind him. Dorian actually did have some fondness for this part of the plains; there was a weird beauty to the war-torn wreckage, in the way the light played on the twisted wood and shattered stone, casting misshapen shadows. The wind seemed to lift sad echoes from the remaining corners of the buildings as it wound through them, tales of the lives once lived here. Hey, that was pretty good. Maybe he'd take up writing poetry again after this war was over.

He found Cole behind what looked to be an old granary. As Adaar had surmised, Cole had bored of the proceedings and gone off to gather the bright red sprigs of embrium that dotted the brown landscape. The spirit was crouched over one cluster of flowers, but tilted his head and stood when he noticed Dorian. Without even giving Dorian a glance, he vanished in a gust of wind.

“Cole...” said Dorian. Hopefully he was still listening, wherever he went. “Please don't be like this. I don't know what I've done, but I never meant to upset you. Tell me what's going on, and I'll do whatever I can to make it right.”

“You believe your words. I don't.” Cole's voice came from somewhere behind Dorian. That was unnerving; it suggested that Cole wanted to be in a position to defend himself if necessary.

Dorian didn't bother turning around, knowing Cole would just appear somewhere else if he did. “I'm not trying to deceive you,” he said, trying to sound calm and concerned, not afraid. “I really do want to undo... whatever it is that I've done. Is this about what you read from me in the inn and the library?”

“Seeking warm hands, but a hunger too,” Cole said, by way of what Dorian assumed was assent. “He is not human; he may be mercy, but his kind have none. Do I want trembling touch, or tooth and claw? To caress, or to control? Will this be the battle of wills played out so many times in dreams, victor standing and bloodied, vanquished lying prone?” Cole paused. “I can't trust you,” he stated. Dorian wasn't sure whose thoughts that last was supposed to be.

“No, Cole. That's not what I feel.” To some extent Cole was right, though. Of course he was. There was the innocent schoolboy crush level of attraction, and then there were the darker depths. Certainly Dorian had met his fair share of desire demons; they had a particular knack for finding him, in fact. Though they might appear as beautiful princes or nubile slaves, most often they just appeared in their true forms, because frankly they had figured out that Dorian was into it. 'Inclined to do the forbidden', as Bull had put it. Mage versus demon, the eternal struggle; there was something so seductive to it. Something like the thrill of the hunt.

“Demon. Devourer, deceiver, destroyer. Dangerous.” Cole spoke in his usual flat tone, but there was a dark edge to his words. “Clever tongues, but animals at heart. In their nature to attack. Nothing to be done but pin them down and watch them struggle.”

“No! Cole, that's not who you are, and that's not how I think of you. You aren't like the others.” Dorian spoke fervently, wishing he could be as sure of what he was saying as he wanted to sound. “You are you, and I am... a fool, always wishing after all sorts of frivolous things. It's nothing. I'm sorry for thinking those awful things. Ignore them. Please.”

There was a rustling sound behind him, and footsteps. Maybe Cole had started to calm down enough to let himself be seen. Slowly, Dorian turned around. Cole was visible, bundle of vivid flowers clutched in one hand like a weapon, other hand poised to draw his dagger. His pose was tense, the vicious energy in his long limbs still maddeningly attractive. Stupid sexy spirit. “You... you do mean to calm me. You're hurt that you hurt me. You want me to forget, to stop being frightened. But... you also still _want_. I don't know what to do. I don't know if I can help you.”

“It's okay, Cole. You don't have to help me.” Tentatively, Dorian stepped forward. Cole didn't move. “I just don't want you to be afraid, alright? I would never hurt you.”

“Friends, newfound family, but always fearing, on all sides. He has killed before; what if he turns traitor? Who decided to let a demon join the ranks? Keep an eye on him. Cut him down when he steps out of line.” Cole sunk to the ground and curled in on himself, crushing the flowers in his white-knuckled grip against his arm. It was a pose Dorian had seen him take before, when he felt overwhelmed.

“Cole, no.” Dorian crouched to put a hand on his shoulder. Cole flinched. “You're not a monster, or a killer, or any of those things. You're a wonderfully kind, gentle person. We trust you. No one is going to cut you down, least of all me.”

“Yes. You... you're telling the truth,” Cole murmured. “You do care, I can feel it. You want me to be happy. Thank you.” His voice cracked on the last few words.

They sat there for a minute, quietly. Above them, a bird chirped. “Are you ready to go back now?” Dorian asked softly. Cole nodded. “Alright.” Dorian took Cole's hand to help him up, and the two stood.

“Wait,” said Cole. He didn't let go of Dorian's hand. “I... I changed my mind. I don't want to go back.”

“Cole? What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just... like how it feels, when you care about me, when you feel for me. I want you to keep going.” Cole raised a hand, hesitantly, and stroked Dorian's face.

Dorian's heart leapt. “But- I thought you didn't want...” He trailed off. Cole was staring at him with those inscrutable pale eyes. His gaze was mesmerizing, overwhelming. Important. Dorian closed his eyes and leaned in for a kiss.

Cole obliged, carefully, softly. Ever so softly. His lips parted, and Dorian slid his tongue between them. His mind was filled with a quiet buzz of excitement. Dorian reached behind Cole's head to draw him closer. Everything about this moment felt hyper-real: the tingle of Cole's skin against his, the sound of their breath mingling, the faint thud of both their heartbeats. Time stretched. Dorian opened his eyes to see Cole still looking at him with entranced longing. He paused, drew breath, and leaned in again.

“Wow,” said someone below and to the left.

Cole broke away and looked down. “Oh hi, Varric.”

It took willpower for Dorian to keep himself from screaming. He stumbled away and steadied himself against the remaining wall of the granary. “This- this isn't what it looks like!” he managed to choke out.

“Really?” asked Cole, puzzled. “What does it look like?”

“Well, Cole,” said Varric, “it looks like you two were getting some hot makeout action on a cold spring day, but I guess I might be mistaken.” Dorian glared at the dwarf, who was standing there with a smug grin, arms folded.

“You're right, that is what was happening. I think so, at least,” Cole said carefully.

“Stop _helping_!” Dorian cried.

“You can't just ask me to stop helping. That's not what I do.”

“Ugh.” Dorian covered his face with his hands and sunk back against the wall. “Dwarf, if you tell _anyone_ about this...”

Varric raised his hands. “No worries, kids. Your little secret is safe with me. Promise.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I'm pretty surprised, I have to say, but I can't say I'm not happy for you two. I'll let you get back to your fun. Don't stay out too late.” He slipped away.

Cole looked at Dorian. “So... this is a secret?”

“Yes.” Dorian breathed slowly. “At least... for now. For the foreseeable future.”

“Are we... going to keep going?” Cole sounded slightly sad.

“Maybe. But not right now. Later.” Dorian squeezed Cole's hand and let go; Cole almost tried to hang on, but reluctantly let go as well. “We'll talk about this later, okay?”

“Yes. Later.” It pained Dorian to look away from Cole's sad eyes, but Cole pulled his hat down. “We're going back to the Inquisitor now, then?”

“Yes, let's.” Oh, he couldn't let this moment end on such a down note. Dorian looked around and spied the forgotten and bedraggled bouquet of embrium on the ground. He picked it up and handed it back to Cole. Cole smiled, very faintly. There we go. That was better. Dorian grinned and turned to head back. Maybe, just maybe, this would be worth it.


	5. I Want to Tell You Lies, I Want to Write You Books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Been a while since I was pretending I had an actual update schedule, eh? Sorry about that. This chapter is mostly very silly. Gals being pals, Ser Dorian Not-Really-Appearing-In-This-Chapter, fanfic writers getting meta, u know how it is. Cole ponders his life, Cassandra is there. Anyway. Next chapter should be up much sooner, and is more exciting.

Cole was distracted, but then again, he usually was. He had figured out that he saw the world differently from other people. No one else saw the glow of minds and the swirl of memories in bright translucent overlay, even in the patches where the veil was thin and fragile; no one else heard the humming music of everything living and feeling. At first Cole had thought the people of this world had an unbelievable capacity for focus, but now he understood that it was only spirits who saw the bright, loud, confusing mess. Perhaps the Fade was equally confusing to the people from here. Either way, Cole had quickly developed the ability to fight while distracted. He just had to look straight ahead, keep an ear out for any excited thoughts about killing him, and go where the knife needed to be. Dorian had called him a “murder savant” once. Cole thought that was maybe a joke, but took it as a compliment.

Dorian, though. Cole had been paying special attention to his thoughts since they had gotten back to Varric and Eshaal (who had finally gotten her shard, after giving up and torching the remains of the building). Dorian had acted as though nothing unusual had happened, slipping easily back into snark about Adaar's pyromaniac antics and singed eyebrows. Cole had tried to catch his eye, but all he got in response was a wink and a motion to be silent. It was difficult, though, when Dorian's thoughts were such a torrent of conflicting emotions despite his outward comfort. There was affection there, and giddy glee, and lust; and also fear, and anxiety, and anger, and darker feelings even than those. It was quite literally intoxicating. To feel the happiness Cole had caused directed towards himself gave him a sweet shining satisfaction, and hearing the fleeting desires for more made him want to dive back for another kiss. It had been so easy, and Dorian had enjoyed it so much; why didn't everyone do this all the time? But the refracted happiness wasn't pure, it was tainted, and those other emotions sang dark old tempting songs to him. Too easy to rush in, to kindle desire, fear, rage, despair... When he looked into Dorian's eyes, he felt something he hadn't felt since the Spire. Cole shuddered, but with what feeling he didn't know.

It would be so lovely to just stand and listen to Dorian's emotions, letting them wash over him, but there was work to be done. So Cole hung back as Eshaal lead them over clear streams and dappled forest, fending off wolves and chasing halla. He couldn't make himself stop listening, though, nor did he want to. Beyond the pleasure of it, Cole didn't really understand why Dorian was feeling any of it, and so much at once. He wanted to read more of Dorian's mind to understand, and while emotions were easy to pick up quietly, thoughts were almost impossible to not echo aloud. Usually Cole didn't even try to stop himself from echoing; it was rarely worth the effort, most of the time he couldn't catch himself before he started, and people's reactions were so interesting anyway. But this time he had a feeling that if he didn't keep quiet, Dorian wouldn't want anything more to do with him, and Cole was so very interested in that 'later' Dorian had mentioned. The best compromise Cole could manage was to echo Dorian's thoughts very quietly, under his breath, and hope no one noticed. So far no one had seemed to, which was good, because the things he found himself saying were intimate and strange:

“Now that I'm done acting like an infatuated child, can I think about how ill-conceived this all is? I have not thought this out at all. There are so many ways this could go horribly wrong.”

“His eyes, though. Gorgeous. Southerner boys and their blue eyes. They should be outlawed.”

“Okay but consider this: _demon_. Literal demon. That I just made out with. I've completely crossed the line of 'not remotely human', here. I should just thank the stars that High Dragons are only female, because otherwise I'd be worried. I'm disgusting, really.”

“He wanted me! Me! When he touched me first- oh, I could melt. He's too sweet, I can't believe my luck. Truly, I don't deserve him.”

“He is not human! How many times do I have to remind myself! I have no idea what he wants, but I can be damn sure it's not marriage and a house in the countryside with two kids and a dog. I've practiced for so many years to spot their lies and tricks, I can't lose to simple friendliness and a halfway cute face. Okay, perhaps more than halfway cute. Nowadays I find myself wondering if that jawline was shaped specifically to seduce me...”

“Ah, virgins. It's been too long since I've had the pleasure of one. Damn these others – if we were alone I'd pin him down and take him right here on the grass. Oh, the pitiful sounds he'd make...”

“Hey buddy!” Wait, that wasn't the sound of Cole's own voice. Cole squeaked in surprise to see that Eshaal had run up to walk beside him. “You all right? You've been off to yourself muttering for a while now.”

“Oh. So you did notice.”

“I mean, yeah, but we're pretty used to you doing stuff like that by now,” Eshaal said. “I think we were all like 'Oh, he's doing a Cole thing'. Just wanted to make sure it wasn't an unhappy Cole thing or a freaked out Cole thing.”

“So sad, so thin,” Cole echoed from her. “Lonely ghostly boy, off in his own world. I wish he wanted a hug so I could pull him back down. I wish I knew which jokes that would lift the shadow from his face.” He switched back to his own thoughts. “Oh! That's very kind of you! You shouldn't worry about me, though. Your jokes are very funny, and you can hug me if you want.”

“No, I said I wanted you to _want_ a hug. Well, you said that. Anyway, there's a difference.” Eshaal thought for a moment. “Okay, here's what you gotta do: wait until you're sad, and then come find me, and I'll give you a hug, and then you have to feel less sad.”

“Okay?” Eshaal was pretty good at explaining what she wanted, but Cole had to admit he wasn't sure he could manage that one. “I'll try that.”

“So you're not sad or angry or anything? And none of this has to do with Dorian?” Eshaal belied her interest with a hopeful grin. She had sharpened teeth. Tal-Vashoth tradition, apparently.

“No. Dorian is happy, too.”

“Uh huh,” said Eshaal, still smiling. Did that mean she knew Cole was lying? Damn. He had no idea how people who couldn't read minds picked up on that, and therefore had no clue how to hide it. “But you know you could tell me if anything was going on with him, right?”

“You're trying to be clever.” Cole smiled slightly. “But he told me not to talk about it.”

“Ooooh.” Eshaal grinned at the snippet of information. “You're sure you're not allowed to say anything else?”

It was so hard to deny her when gossip made her so happy. Especially since Cole didn't see what the harm was in this case. “Not right now, he said. Later, we'll talk about this later. Maybe I can talk to you about it then too.”

Eshaal's grin almost reached her ears. “Well, then. I was just thinking about resuming our trek back to Skyhold soon. If we ride quick we can make it by sunset. And then maybe you'll have time to talk to him, and then talk to me?”

“Maybe.”

“Excellent. I'll ready the war-nugs.” Eshaal rubbed her hands together and ran back to the front of the group.

 

* * *

 

 

Entering Skyhold was like walking into a great cavern full of distant echoes; whispered voices played out scenes long past, feasts and fights and festivals, generations mixing together. The fort felt so alive that Cole was always a bit stunned while walking through the gates. He thought the war-nugs might feel it too, but it was hard to tell. They were kind of always in a combined state of slow panic and cheerful obliviousness; it made them hard to read, but they were sweet animals. Lumbering and uncomfortable as they were, they were still better than the dracolisks Eshaal used to prefer. Cole understood why dracolisks were so upset all the time, but that didn't mean he liked it.

They dismounted near the stables, the horsemaster shaking his head at what passed for mounts these days. Eshaal looked like she was about to say something, and Cole was grateful when Cassandra walked up and caught her eye instead. (As much as he fundamentally agreed with Eshaal's “you can ride any animal if it's your friend” argument, it was a debate everyone had had far too many times for it to go anywhere at this point.) “Inquisitor,” said Cassandra, “I've received a message from the Chantry that may be of interest to you. I've passed it on to Leliana, but I'd like to be there when you discuss it with her, if you see fit.”

“Oh boy, religious shit,” said Eshaal, absently petting her nug on the nose. “Can it wait a few minutes? You know I have an at least two drinks before any religious shit rule.”

“I'm with Twinkles,” Varric said, dropping to the ground from his saddle with a wince. “I am way too sore from riding this thing to do anything but drink right now.”

Cassandra made a Cassandra noise. “I would really prefer to attend to this sooner rather than later-”

“Oh, hey. Seeker. I know of a matter that may be of even more interest to you, come to think of it.” Varric reached into his pack. “I, uh... came across this... document during our travels. You may want to review it.” He handed a bound sheaf of paper to Cassandra.

Cassandra's eyes widened. She was one of those people whose faces didn't match their thoughts; if she was more expressive, Cole was pretty sure she would have emitted a gleeful squeal. Cassandra snatched the paper out of Varric's hand. “You are right. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Eshaal looked askance at her. “Is this something I should be worried about?” She looked at Cole, but he shrugged at her. Whatever the document was, no one was anything but excited about it, and that gave him no particular insight without further prying.

“No, absolutely not. Though, now that I think about it...” Cassandra motioned to Cole to come with her. “It pertains to you as well, Cole. Come, we'll discuss it at the training grounds.”

“Me?” Cole was as surprised as anyone else. He glanced at Cassandra, but she shot him a warning glare, and he knew better than to listen to her thoughts right then. Eshaal looked back and forth between them with increasingly irritated confusion.

Now Varric seemed just as confused. “Wait, you too, Kid? But- how-” He looked between Cole and Cassandra. Cole threw his hands up. Varric looked at Eshaal, who was shrugging with equal intensity, shaking her head and looking more baffled than anyone.

“What in the void is everyone on about?” asked Dorian as he dismounted, last to arrive. “I suppose it's my turn to shrug and be confused? Because I can do that.” He mimicked Eshaal with surprising accuracy.

“I'll take my leave before anyone hurts themselves in their confusion,” Cassandra growled. “Cole, come with me.” She grabbed his hand and turned on her heel, Cole stumbling after her.

“What is this about?” Cole whispered to her as they walked. He was itching to just read her thoughts at this point, but he knew she would likely cast a dispelling ward, and that was a nasty feeling.

They were out of earshot at this point, and Cassandra looked around conspiratorially. She opened the first page of the manuscript and read off the title: “Swords and Shields. Part 5.”

Cole gasped audibly. “I didn't even realize he was working on it! Wait, what's happening to the captain and the guardsman? Do they escape?” He craned his head to try to read off the page.

“Patience!” said Cassandra, though she was barely containing her glee herself. “I'll read it to you! Here, let's sit in the smithy, this'll take an hour at least.”

The two tried not to look too manic as they burst into the smithy and took a seat by the window. Fortunately, there was only an apprentice working the forge that day, and she only gave them a moment's squint before turning back to the flames. “All right,” said Cassandra in a hushed tone. “They were on the run from the Qunari when we last saw them, right? Let's see... ' _Ronnic bolted the door behind them. 'We should be safe in this storehouse,' he panted_.” (Cassandra always tried to do a gruff voice for Ronnic. She was very bad at it, but Cole appreciated the effort.) “' _We may even be able to spend the night here, if our luck is with us and we remain quiet.'_

_'Oh, Ronnic!' cried Amandine. 'For a moment there, when we were separated, I thought I'd lost you!'_

_'Never, my dear! So long as I draw breath, I will be by your side!' He clutched her to him, and she could feel his pounding heart through her heaving bosom._

_'Ronnic, I would never doubt you, I only feared for your life!' Amandine embraced her lover and swept him into a passionate kiss. On his tender lips she tasted the tang of blood. 'Darling, you're hurt!' she exclaimed._

_'Tis but a scratch, my love. I will let you tend my wounds, but right now, we're alone for the first time in so long, and there is a rather more... pressing matter.' Indeed, Amandine could feel the matter pressing into her thigh right then and there. A fire began to awaken in her loins. It had indeed been too long, and her heart ached for his touch._

_'You scoundrel!' Amandine gasped. 'Right here in the hay?'_

_'As good a bed as any we've had,' Ronnic purred, sliding a hand under her shirt to cup one round_ _breast, and toying with her_ _...'_ Um.” Cassandra stopped and glanced down the page.

“What? What happens next?” asked Cole eagerly, chin in hands.

“I... I don't think I can keep reading this. It's... rather racy.” She continued skimming the page, raising her eyebrows and wincing. “I hadn't even thought of using a tongue for that.”

“You read me the racy parts before!” Cole protested.

“Yes, but that was because I was already caught up in the action! This is right at the beginning, I can't just dive into it! It's just...” Cassandra sputtered, blushing bright red.

“You're embarrassed?” Cole asked.

“No! It's only that... Okay, yes. Yes, I am embarrassed. Maybe I will read this to you later, after I have read it in privacy.” Cassandra closed the manuscript.

“Why are you embarrassed? Have you not... done such things before?”

“What things I have done are my own business!” said Cassandra, turning even redder.

Unfortunately, Cassandra's memories of exactly what things she had done came to Cole before he could stop them. “His skin shines slick under the lamplight. I lean, running my lips along his-”

Cassandra stood bolt upright. “Spirit, if you finish that sentence, I swear by Andraste's flaming sword I will _end you._ ”

“Llll,” said Cole, trying to stop the words. “Lllleg...umes. Leggings. Librarians. Longbows. Leliana. Leliana has two L's. Lucky.”

“Yes, lucky her indeed,” Cassandra muttered.

“Is that really how it happens, then?” Cole asked. “With the heart aching and the loin fires?”

Cassandra stared at him. “What.”

“Er, sorry. You don't have to answer. I just wanted to understand how people are supposed to feel.”

“I had understood that you were not... interested in such things,” Cassandra said.

“I'm interested in a lot of things.”

Cassandra's eyes narrowed. “Well, I suggest you not chase after anyone in an attempt to make such discoveries yourself. You will have to become a good deal more human before anyone will accept your advances.”

“Oh, it's okay. He's after me.”

“What.”

“You're supposed to say a question mark after 'what', you know. But yes. And I want to know how I should feel, to make him happy.”

“How you should...” Cassandra trailed off, seeming puzzled. “This fellow – is the attraction mutual?”

“He's my good friend,” said Cole.

“No, I mean to ask, are you attracted to him?”

“Why should that matter? He wants my help, and I can help him.”

“Why should it matter? You...” Cassandra sighed. “Cole, I will admit, I don't understand how these things work for you. But if you are seriously considering this... Pay attention to him. Pay attention to what you like about him, and to how he makes you feel, not how he wants you to feel. He is the one pursuing you, so you must be the one thinking of yourself. Think carefully about how what he wants will affect you, and how things could play out. And then, if you are still interested, approach him, and tell him how you feel. But only then.”

“Alright. That's very good advice,” Cole replied. “Thank you.”

“It's no problem. I've fallen in and out of love with enough suitors that I figured I should at least try to spare you the trouble,” Cassandra said. “And while you ponder that, I will be in my bunk. Reading.” She tapped the papers together and tucked them under her arm.

“Read quickly. You know how worried I am about Amandine.”

“As am I. Sometimes it is hard to remember that these are fictional characters.” Cassandra walked to the door, then paused. “Oh, and Cole?”

“Yes?”

“Good luck. I really do hope it works out.” She left.


	6. We've Become Material

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains what I would call a suboptimal consent situation. Nothing terrible happens, but Cole and Dorian learn a lesson on why communication is important. Also some much more exciting lessons.
> 
> Dear chapter notes diary: Yesterday, I ran into a friend of mine from college. I noticed that he looked different, and I realized this was because his mustache wasn't waxed, and he wasn't wearing the broad-brimmed hat he usually wears. I realized that this was an omen that my life was lacking in mustache and hat, and that I needed to work on my fic. I also realized that I have really weird friends.
> 
> Ahem. Anyway, here's chapterwall. I was really looking forward to this one, it was intense to write!
> 
> ETA: The next few chapters after this one are going to be pretty fluffy or pwp-ish, so if there's a prompt you want me to throw in a Cole/Dorian fill for, let me know in the comments! Let your imagination run wild >:)

Spring was beginning to warm the afternoons, and the windows in the library were open, letting a warm breeze and slanted sunlight sing through. A rook stood upon a windowsill, proudly preening its shining feathers, ready to show itself off. It was a good day to discover lands unknown, or at least to try something new. And that was what Cole had decided to do: confront Dorian, discover what he wanted, and finally satisfy him. He had tried to follow Cassandra's advice, but it seemed stupid to make conversation with Dorian about anything else when that current of attraction was racing so obviously just beneath the surface. Why not just skip ahead? Cole was nervous, but mostly excited. He could feel Dorian's elegant warm thoughts, help and happiness so near he could taste it. It could all be so simple. “Hello, Dorian,” Cole said. “I was wondering if it was later yet.”

Dorian started, looking around to see where Cole was. The breeze fluttered the pages of the book he had been reading. After a few seconds Dorian thought to look over his shoulder, and spotted Cole where he was seated crosslegged on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. “Ah. Cole. Nice to see you. Creative in your use of furniture as always, I see.”

“I like these shelves. I fit neatly in them.”

“Have you considered that you may be a book?”

“No.” Dorian was distracting himself with banter, and he knew it. Cole tilted his head, trying to listen to the truth. “Heart hammering, bright and bursting. Longing to reach out, to touch. Why are you hiding?”

Dorian smirked. “Ah yes, why doesn't everyone just give in to the whims of their attractions in broad daylight? Truly, it is a mystery.”

That was a half-truth. Being able to feel Dorian's need and yet being repeatedly deflected was getting so frustrating, and Cole couldn't understand it. He unfolded himself out of the shelf and stood up. “Hope and fear in equal measure. You're worried you want me too much, that you won't be able to forget, disengage, separate yourself out into the part that feels and the part that understands. It's okay. I promise I can help you and you won't be hurt.” To be honest, Cole didn't understand how Dorian thought he could be hurt by it at all, but he didn't feel like it mattered. He was hungry to help at this point.

Dorian looked angry at Cole's words, but Cole could feel a part of him being pleased to hear them. Good, he was beginning to help. “That little talent of yours will get you in trouble someday, you know,” Dorian said, folding his arms. “I'm surprised it hasn't already. But yes, I suppose there's no point to trying to be evasive around a telepath. You've surmised that I'm quite attracted to you, and you seem interested in reciprocating. I'm merely concerned that you may not fully understand the complexities of what you're proposing. It might prove to be quite an involved teaching engagement for me.”

That was what Dorian was saying aloud, anyway. But he was staring at Cole so intensely, and his thoughts were so clear and vivid that Cole had trouble hearing his voice over them: _Impossible, infuriating, gorgeous boy. Just kiss me now, you fool. Just take me against the bookshelf and we can forget about the rest._ That made much more sense than what he was saying aloud. “It doesn't have to be complicated. I know what you want.” Cole put his hand on Dorian's shoulder. He could feel Dorian's pleasure from the words and the touch. It was good, he was helping. The memory of the sensation of lips against his came rushing back, and before Dorian could react any further, Cole kissed him.

It was such a strange feeling, Dorian's tongue against his. The physicality of it was unnerving and overwhelming, and Cole could feel it all through himself, a visceral reminder that he and Dorian were both just bodies pressed against each other. And yet, there was something tender and trusting about it, that someone wanted to be so close to him. No, not just someone. Dorian. Dorian who was exultant, thrilling in the intimacy, losing his thoughts in bliss. Cole pushed past his own sensations and focused on letting Dorian's feelings radiate into him. He was helping so much. And not by fixing something outside in the world, but by being what Dorian wanted in and of himself. It felt so good.

Dorian pulled away to catch his breath. “Wow,” he said, grinning wickedly. “I see you seem to have forgotten that us mortals need air sometimes.” He wanted to be shut up, and Cole didn't want to stop; he kissed Dorian again, more firmly this time, feeling Dorian's surprise and pleasure. Cole's head was beginning to spin. There was something different about this kind of help. Ordinarily, being compassion was a finite thing: he helped, someone was happy, and that was the end of it. But the more he helped Dorian this way, the more Dorian wanted, _needed,_ and the more Cole wanted to give. He could feel Dorian's desire drawing him in, and he was powerless to resist. Cole felt as though he was sliding forward on an icy slope, unable to stop himself. There had to be an end, right? Dorian pulled him closer with an arm around his back, drawing a quick breath again before desperately continuing, and Cole sensed what that inevitable end was. Terrifying, but tantalizing. It wouldn't be so difficult to see this through, would it? He just had to follow what Dorian wanted, ride on his emotions, and ignore the rest. Like a dance where Dorian led him through the steps.

Dorian was very good at taking the lead, too, if Cole just listened. Until now he had been unconsciously following what Dorian wanted, but if he paid attention, the instructions were clearer than words. _Back me into the shelf,_ was what Dorian currently wanted. Cole stepped forward, pressing his hip against Dorian's and forcing him to take a stumbling step back against the bookcase. The books rattled noticeably. “My, my,” said Dorian with a stunned grin. “I didn't realize you were a man of such conviction.” _Shut me up again. And touch my face more._ Cole obliged, kissing forcefully now, gripping Dorian's face to draw him closer, leaning in and confining him. _Good. Now vary it a little, kiss my neck._ Cole disengaged, drew a quick breath, and leaned to run his lips along Dorian's jawline and down his taut neck. Dorian arched his head back to oblige. Cole could feel his breaths. He wanted to bite down; was that right? Cole didn't know, so he didn't. Dorian moaned, very quietly. It felt exquisitely good to hear.

Dorian's thoughts were beginning to cloud now, and Cole felt slightly panicked. He had been counting on Dorian to do the thinking for both of them, and now that was slipping away. The only thing Cole could sense clearly was Dorian's desire, shining like torchlight through fog. If he wanted, he could block everything else out and let that guide him. Like a lighthouse through a storm. Cole's hands seemed to be moving on their own now; they trailed down Dorian's face, stroking his chest, moving along his back. Fumblingly, Cole began to untuck Dorian's shirt.

“Not here,” Dorian said, grabbing his hand, holding it tight. His face was flushed, his voice quiet. “My room is nearby. Come on.”

Cole felt as though he was standing before an abyss. There would be no turning back, only falling towards the light. He hesitated, but only barely. He wanted to finish helping Dorian, and he wanted it now, and badly. Bright hazel eyes stared into his, closer than anyone's had been since back when... “Let's go,” Cole heard himself say, feeling the burn of blood in his face. He leaned forward into the abyss and fell.

 

* * *

 

Dorian felt like he was in a dream, but he wasn't about to second-guess it. He opened the door to the hallway, peering around the corner to see if Vivienne was there. She wasn't. Thank the Maker for delivering us from cockblocking. Dorian grinned like an idiot and motioned for Cole to follow him and stay silent. The two ran across the balcony, stained glass light sliding along them. Cole had been strangely quiet, but he looked almost as giddy as Dorian felt, smiling wider than Dorian had ever seen him. They made a ridiculous pair, but Dorian was nothing but thrilled about it. He felt like a stupid teenager running to steal a tryst in a hall closet, and it was wonderful. And for all Cole's naivete, he seemed to know what Dorian wanted better than he did. Why did Dorian keep second-guessing himself about this, anyway? It was all turning out so much better than he had imagined.

Dorian paused at the door to the ramparts. “You've been quiet,” he said to Cole, still unable to keep the smirk off his face. “You all right?”

“Delighted! Delirious. Ecstatic, enraptured, euphoric, exhilarated. Excited!” Cole certainly looked half-crazed as he rattled off the list.

“I wish I became incoherent as charmingly as you do. Come on, mine's the second room down.” He ushered Cole through.

No sooner had Dorian opened the door to his room than Cole dragged him inside. Dorian barely managed to fend him off long enough to bolt the door, Cole frantically trying to tug his shirt off, still with that mad expression. “Patience, patience!” Dorian laughed. “Someone's liable to get hurt, and I like to save that bit for at least the third time.” Cole snorted at his joke. “Besides, this outfit has far too many ridiculous straps, I can get it off much faster than you can. Like so.” Dorian disrobed quickly, though not fast enough for Cole, who insisted on pressing him towards the bed. Damn, he had had no idea that the spirit would be this desperate. All the better, though. He had strategies for handling the quick ones, and that energy was irresistible.

Cole shoved Dorian against the mattress, expression edging into rabid. “Hey! At least take your hat off first!” Dorian snatched the hat off his head and tossed it aside – damn, but this boy had terminal hat hair – before helping Cole out of his shirt. Cole wriggled the tattered shirt off before pinning Dorian down by the shoulders. Dorian realized that skinny as he was, the spirit had incredible strength – he could barely move in his grip. Inhuman strength. The thought made Dorian's heart pound as Cole lay to press another hungry kiss against his mouth, chest against his. The look in those frenetic blue eyes confirmed it: whatever this weird, thin, beautiful creature that held him down was, it was further from human than anyone he had ever been with before. “Maker,” Dorian whispered as he broke away from the kiss, “you're gorgeous. Fuck.”

Cole growled in response. There was an echo in his voice. He writhed against Dorian, skin rubbing across bare skin. Dorian struggled, hands digging into Cole's shoulders, until he managed to flip him onto his back and pin him. Cole hissed, and Dorian laughed before claiming his mouth with a kiss. Cole arched his back underneath him. “Dorian,” he moaned, “Dorian, Dorian, Dorian.” Eager little fiend. Dorian slid his hand between the two of them, pressing down between Cole's legs.

Cole's eyes shot open as though waking from a nightmare, and Dorian immediately sensed that something was wrong. He lifted himself off of Cole and Cole scrambled away, pressing himself against corner of the wall at the head of the bed. The young man looked genuinely terrified. “What are you doing??” he asked desperately.

“Wh- what am I doing?” Dorian fumblingly sat up. “What do you think I'm doing? What are you doing?” He was beginning to panic.

“I don't know!” Cole was shaking. “I was just following what you wanted!”

“You were just...” Oh, no. No, no, no, no. “You were reading my thoughts. You didn't decide to do any of that.” Cole nodded meekly. The gravity of the situation was crashing down on Dorian. “Cole, I am so, so sorry. Thank you for stopping me. I don't know what I can do-”

“Please stop being frightened. You didn't hurt me, but you're making it hard to think.” Cole held his head in his hands, breathing hard. Dorian felt an incredible urge to hug him, but knew that would do more harm than good. Instead he waited. Gradually, Cole seemed to calm down, and he stopped visibly trembling. “Okay. Reason is returning, back from the darker places. Shock is stilled, shaking stopped, calm collecting. I think I can try again now.”

“No!” said Dorian. “Please, don't try again. That is the opposite of what I want you to do. And what I want you to do doesn't matter right now.”

Cole frowned. “I ruined it. I wish I could make you forget.”

“Cole, no. Nothing's ruined, and you shouldn't make anyone forget anything.” Dorian moved to sit next to Cole, though still at a fair distance. He covered himself with the bedsheet, somewhat embarrassed to be naked now next to someone who probably hadn't been interested in seeing him naked in the first place. “All I want right now is to make sure you're okay.”

Cole paused to think. “Yes. I think I am. I think I liked some of it.”

“That's good, then.” Dorian had to admit he was relieved to hear Cole might still be interested, though that was far from his first concern right now.

“Especially the running part. That was fun. Does that happen every time?”

“Um,” said Dorian, “That's not generally considered an essential part of the experience, but I'm flattered that you enjoy running around with me.”

“Oh.” Cole thought for a moment again. “I also think I liked the part where you were on top of me.”

“That one does tend to happen pretty much every time, so... that's good.”

“You're like a warm heavy blanket.”

“That's what I've always aimed to be.”

“No you haven't.”

“No, I haven't, but I'll make an exception for you.” Dorian was sure flirting wasn't appropriate here, but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

“And... Hm. What else. I liked your mustache.”

“Why thank you!” That filled Dorian with more glee than he'd like to admit. “You've probably noticed that I take great pride in my mustache.”

“Yes. Can I touch it?”

“By all means, go ahead!” said Dorian. Cole reached out and pulled on one of the ends of Dorian's mustache. It sprang back into shape when he let go. Cole giggled, and Dorian laughed at him, but then remembered himself. “Seriously, though, Cole. Regardless of what you liked of it, it seems like I made you incredibly uncomfortable.”

“I did that to myself,” Cole protested.

“Okay, or you made yourself do something extremely uncomfortable on my behalf. Regardless. I don't want that. Please, don't force yourself to do things just because I want them.” Dorian caught himself about to put a hand on Cole's arm and stopped.

“But I want to do things for you. I stopped only because I was afraid. Next time I won't be.”

Cole was staring at him insistently, and Dorian sighed. He really had other things he would prefer to be doing with the spirit besides arguing. It was a problem, and he knew he couldn't let it go unfixed. “Cole. This isn't going to work if you keep insisting on ignoring yourself. I'm interested in you, not some anonymous gratification. Where are your feelings in all this? What is it that you want, besides to help me?”

Cole looked down to think. “Touch like fire. Arcing, aching, awakening. It drowns out the songs. Do I want it to stop? My body is alive, I can feel it, I like it. Make it stop.” He paused. “I don't know what I want. Is this what being human is like, parts of me in conflict, not knowing which me does the choosing?”

“It is. I did try to warn you.” That was petulant, but it came from the bitter part of Dorian that was kicking himself for thinking this would go smoothly. Teaching engagement was right. “Look, perhaps we should just call this off. You weren't as ready as I thought you were, and I don't think my further attentions are going to be good for you.”

“No!” Cole grabbed Dorian's hand and looked at him pleadingly. Dorian's heart melted a little at the sight and at the touch, though he didn't want to admit it. The spirit tried so hard at everything he did, and it was too sweet. “I have to understand. I don't know how if you don't help me.”

“This isn't something everyone has to enjoy, Cole. It's okay if you don't,” Dorian said. He squeezed Cole's hand.

“But I want to be able to enjoy it. And I want to be able to enjoy you.” Dorian's heart fluttered at that. “You're smart, and proud, and charming, and you know who you are, and what you want. And you can help me.”

“Stop flattering me, you're making me blush.” Dorian was blushing rather fiercely, in fact. He wanted nothing more than to hear Cole say kind things about him all day.

“And your face is perfect,” said Cole, smiling.

“Now you must stop, or I'll start believing you,” said Dorian, covering his face with a hand. Damn Cole for making him too shy to take a compliment.

“But it's true! I hadn't thought about it before, and now I'm thinking about it, and you have a very good face. You think you don't want me to tell you, but really you do.” Cole was practically grinning by this point, and Dorian genuinely didn't know if Cole was guileful enough to just be doing this to see his reaction.

“You are far too much to handle, you understand, and you are making me hate how cute you are. In the best way.” Dorian tried to glare at Cole, but couldn't stop grinning.

“Innocent but inviting, tempting to trust. He makes me let my guard down, makes me let myself make exceptions.” Cole's expression became thoughtful. “Can I kiss you?”

“Is that coming from you, not me?” Dorian asked.

Cole paused. “Yes. I think it is.”

“Then go right ahead.” Cole leaned forward, much more hesitant and careful than he had been before, and kissed Dorian. The kiss was soft and tentative, exploratory, much more like a first kiss. Each moment was an experiment, no movement going unnoticed. It felt strange and very real, and Dorian savored it. He gently reached up to run his fingers through Cole's hair.

Cole shivered, and slowly pulled away. “So will you help me?”

“I... yes. I suppose I will.” Dorian sighed. What was he getting himself into? “I'll teach you what I know. I do enjoy playing teacher, on occasion.”

“Thank you. I will not make you regret it. I will try not to. Um.” Cole quickly kissed him on the cheek. “Was that right?”

“Quite right, thank you.” Dorian returned the kiss on Cole's nose, and it was Cole's turn to blush. “We'll have fun. I am nothing if not open to new experiences. Right now, though, I think we've had enough excitement for one afternoon.”

Cole pouted. “I don't want to leave.”

“Nor do I, but unfortunately one mustn't stay in bed all day.” Dorian stretched and looked askance at Cole. “What is it that you do with your time, anyway? If you're not up to anything, you can join me in the library.”

“I do a lot,” said Cole. “I watch. I listen. I try to help in small ways. I practice things. The library can be a place for that.”

“Well, I've been doing research on the link between lyrium and possession,” said Dorian. “Bianca's findings about lyrium being alive have gotten me thinking. I could tell you about it while I read, if it would interest you? It helps to have someone to bounce my thoughts off of, and I'm sure you'd have an interesting perspective. And then we could get dinner? Do you eat?”

“Lately I've been eating some things. Mostly desserts. If they have pie I'll eat it.”

“That sounds very reasonable. It seems you have this being human thing figured out.” Dorian stood, still slightly embarrassed to be naked, and got their clothes off the floor. “Here's your hat back.”

“Thank you!” Cole put it on immediately. “I hope I won't always have to take my hat off.”

“I... We can work that out when we get to it. Here, have this too.” Dorian held out Cole's shirt. The linen was uncomfortably stiff. “Is this the only shirt you own?”

“Yes.” Cole took it.

“Have you ever washed it?” Cole looked at him blankly. Dorian wrinkled his nose. “Well, that's another thing we should probably work out. Don't worry, there are plenty of Fereldan men who make the same mistake. Sadly.” Dorian pulled his clothes back on. Cole was still holding the shirt and frowning. “What now?”

“I realized I have to take my hat off to put my shirt on. I don't want to.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and grabbed the hat. “Here. I made your life easier.” Cole scrambled to put his shirt on and snatch the hat back. Dorian felt almost mean for taking it.

Cole jammed the hat back on and stared at Dorian. Dorian was beginning to be able to catch the subtle change in expression Cole made when reading someone's thoughts. “Not like a child, just new. Different. Defines things on other dimensions. Fascinatingly foreign, intriguing and confounding. Yes. It's the same for me. I told you I was curious about you.” Cole stood up.

“That you did. I just didn't realize it was quite in this way.” Dorian brushed Cole's bangs from his eyes to smile at him, and the two shared one more kiss before leaving.

 

 


	7. Gemini Tactics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaa, sorry it's been three weeks since the last update! Crazy times here. Finals and conferences and whatnot. Anyone want to hear about theoretical neuroscience? No, you don't, you wanna hear about boys smooching. Just checking.
> 
> Anyway, here's a bit of fluffy stuff. Hope you enjoy. I learned a lot about astronomy and castle walls when being distracted by Wikipedia while writing this! For instance, did you know that there's a part of a castle called a "murder hole"? And that I've been using "rampart" wrong this whole time and probably meant "battlement" but I'm not going to change it yet for consistency? Now you do.

Staring at the stars, Cole remembered when they had opened the floodgates in Crestwood. The triumphant roar of the river being freed, the cloudburst above echoing, the gasps of spirits finally being able to face open sky. That began to describe how he felt now.

It felt like decades ago that he had pushed away his memories of being human, though it had been less than a year. Still, the knowledge of his past in the Fade had overlaid and overwhelmed that part of him, and it all felt like a story that had happened to someone else. Which was true, after all. But the wall of frost that had cut him off from his human life was beginning to crack, and the emotions were beginning to flood back in.

Anger, real anger, was the first one to return. That was what he had felt immediately after shooting at the templar. The cold, vengeful fury at the injustice of his death had been there all along; Cole was familiar with that, expected it. What he didn't expect was the burst of rage, boiling over – at himself for missing, at Varric for not letting him have another shot, at the entire world for letting this happen, for being set up this way. It was no longer anger that someone innocent had died; it was anger that _he_ had died. And worse, nothing could make it right. No amount of killing would undo his own death, no torment would undo the pain he had been through. For a moment he had believed that it was because this whole world was a _wrong_ place, where things didn't happen with any sort of inherent justice or logic, only arbitrary bizarre cogs set in motion by a lone blind god. That the only way to fix this was to give up trying to make sense of it, to destroy and despair and forget until this cruel world he was trapped in ended him itself. Thank the Maker his friends had been there, that he couldn't bear to imagine the looks on Solas and Eshaal's and Varric's faces if he had let himself... let himself become... Cole didn't like to think about it.

So he had let the anger stay, roiling, despite how wrong it felt to not be able to do something to fix it and forget it and make it go away. When he fought, he struck with a little more viciousness, especially against red templars, and it helped some. And the anger had waned, without vanishing, but it had also spread, and memories of other angers had trickled through; anger at the other children who had teased him, at the hawk that had eaten his favorite rabbit, at himself for letting himself cry about it, at himself for being a mage, at anyone bigger or stronger than him for being able to hurt him, at his father... Cole realized with sickening embarrassment that he owed Dorian an apology for asking him why he was angry at his father. He hadn't let himself make the connection to himself, hadn't let himself remember what it was like to hate a member of your own family.

Cole shook his head. He ran a hand along the cold rough stone of the ramparts to ground himself. That conversation was in the past, and he could think other thoughts about Dorian now. Dorian, at the center of an undying light in his mind, thoughts of endless warmth. Cole closed his eyes. In the fraction of a second when Dorian's touch had become too intense and Cole had awoken from... whatever that trance was, something bright had burst in the back of Cole's mind. At the time Cole was too stunned and afraid to think of himself past his pounding heart and racing thoughts, too determined to push his own feelings away, to force himself to focus on what Dorian wanted. But Dorian had wanted him to think about himself, because Dorian _cared,_ and so Cole was trapped.

And when he grudgingly turned his gaze inward... He was scared, and vulnerable, but he felt _awake_. Active, hungry, ready maybe to lunge, grasp, hold. And... good, in a way. There was something new and exciting and just maybe happy happening. There were the flashes of his human life again; some brief and terrifying forays into touching himself, but before that, the things that had precipitated them. The people. Sunset through the red hair of a girl wading in the river, freckles across the round face of a boy a little older than him who gave him a wry smile, the shoulders of an elven apprentice in the marketplace who Cole didn't understand why he couldn't look away from. He barely remembered who those people were, but he remembered the feeling of finding people beautiful.

And then Cole had looked at Dorian, and it was as though he had slowly come into focus, like Cole was seeing him for the first time. He noticed Dorian's eyes first, because eyes always drew him in, and the look of concern in them at that moment felt so sweet directed at himself. But now he noticed their color, the mesmerizing overlay of greens and browns and grays; and beyond that, the forceful arc of his eyebrows, the noble edge to his cheekbones, his aquiline nose, the graceful narrow proportions of his jaw... That was where “your face is perfect” had come from. The more he stared, the more Dorian seemed almost impossibly beautiful, enough that Cole sometimes forgot to pay attention to what he was saying. How had he not seen this before? Dorian always called himself handsome, and Cole had struggled to understand; now he was struggling to understand how anyone else could possibly compare. There were times he wished other people could read his mind too. Cole was not nearly so eloquent in explaining his own thoughts as others', and he wanted Dorian to know how he felt. Dorian would be so happy to know, and now thinking of Dorian happy was overwhelming, new human feelings adding to compassion. Cole ached with longing, but for precisely what he didn't know, and the complexity almost frightened him.

Cole had never been one to be paralyzed by an emotion, though, and he let his impulses guide him. Better to worry about it after the fact, and Dorian seemed almost as nervous as he was anyway. He let himself do what he wanted to do, to kiss Dorian or tease him or touch his face, and asked when he was truly unsure, though by now he was beginning to pick up on which actions were okay. Being able to read Dorian was helpful, of course; the embarrassment Dorian had felt had kept Cole from gazing anywhere below his chest, despite Cole's nervous curiosity. It was difficult to keep Dorian's emotions separate from his own, though, and added to the chess game's worth of things Cole had to keep in mind. He could dance this dance, but only teeteringly and twirlingly, just barely keeping himself from falling over and spilling someone's drink.

So far, though, the waltz was slow and the chords consonant, and the drinks stayed put. (At dinner Dorian had hemmed and hawed over whether to break out one of the few good wines, until Cole had informed him that he personally would get much more enjoyment out of the wine if Dorian drank it by himself. Unless this wine happened to taste like grape jelly, which was the closest thing Cole did actually enjoy; but it probably tasted like alcohol, which was a taste Cole was attempting to acquire but miserably failing at. He was beginning to be able to tolerate a few sips of some varieties of mead. Dorian had decided this was no occasion for drinking good wine alone, and went with the tavern's usual red probably-wine-drink.) Cole had followed Dorian through the remainder of his day, half listening to his research and half listening to his thoughts. He was so happy every time he heard Dorian think something kind about him, whether it was how the light reflected in his hair, or how cute he looked when he was paying such rapt attention, or how incredible it was to be able to talk to a being that transcended worlds, or just how nice it was to talk about something he cared about with someone who cared about him. The fears Cole had heard in him before were there, but they were a low swirling undercurrent beneath the bright sparkle of affection in Dorian's mind.

It was so easy to stir those waters, too, to play with the currents and see them shift around what he did. Sometimes Cole would reach out and take Dorian's hand, enjoying the warm buzz of touching him, and could feel the sudden echo of his emotions in Dorian, and see a smile begin to play along his lips. (His mustache moved when he smiled. It was very exciting. Cole was very excited about the mustache in general.) He liked looking at Dorian's hands, enjoying the intricacy of joints and subtle veins, the contrast of their skin tones and of Dorian's gracefully tapered fingers against his own long bony ones, the intimacy of touching fingertips. Once Dorian casually lifted Cole's hand to his mouth and kissed it with a playful smile before letting go. Cole mimicked the gesture the next time he took Dorian's hand, and was rewarded with a grin.

The hours had passed lazily but pleasurably, Dorian sometimes explaining magical theory to Cole or veering off into jokes or just reading, Cole moving from sitting across from him to perching beside him on the armchair, sometimes leaning his head on Dorian's shoulder or playing with his hair. (The sides of his head were fuzzy.) He once ventured a kiss on the cheek, and Dorian shyly reciprocated, but Dorian didn't initiate any kisses of his own, and Cole didn't reattempt. Dorian's fear had edged closer to the surface then, and Cole noticed that Dorian was occasionally surreptitiously checking to see if anyone passing by was looking in their direction. That didn't sit well with Cole, but he chose to ignore it; there would be time in the future to heal whatever hurt that arose from. For now, he could enjoy what they already had.

On the ramparts, the door behind Cole creaked open and interrupted his reverie, and he turned his head slightly to look. “Kaffas!” Dorian hissed, igniting a magical flame in one hand, before realizing who it was. “...Cole? You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing?”

“Thinking. Listening to the stars. I don't know if I need to sleep.”

Dorian blinked and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his free hand. “Have you been out here since I've gone to sleep?”

“Yes,” Cole replied. “I like being near you. I can still feel you there, a comforting calling, halfway conscious.”

“Mmm. Someone's infatuated, I see.” Dorian squinted at him. “Well, I was just getting up to get a drink of water, so...”

“I know. I heard your thirst. I got you some.” Cole motioned to the cup of water he had placed next to him.

“...Ah.” Dorian extinguished the flame.

“Frightened, or flattered? I suppose this is what I signed up for. He is what he is, call it creepy or cute. I'd expect no less.” Cole paused, feeling ashamed. “I'm sorry for scaring you. I thought I would help. I don't know how to be distant when the desire is there, yours or mine.”

“Don't apologize. I've never been attracted to a man who doesn't frighten me at least a little.” Dorian walked over to lean on the embrasure near the ledge where Cole was seated facing the courtyard. “And thank you for the water, this saves me the walk.” He took the cup and drank, looking out at the same stars Cole saw. It was a clear night, with only a few wisps of cloud marring the starscape; there was a thin sliver of waxing moon near the horizon, and tiny Satina hung glittering just below it. “Wait, you're _listening_ to the stars? You can hear them?”

Cole nodded. “Each one has different harmonies, different colors. Some are louder, some are deeper. Some are dead by now.”

“Do you... know what stars _are_? Are they some phenomenon in the Veil?”

“Oh. They're worlds. Do people not know? People in the stars know.”

Dorian stared at him, half asleep, half wondering. “And you learned this where?”

Cole shrugged slowly. “There are some things that I... we... spirits can see. I didn't realize how different it was for everyone else.” How many of his senses weren't human? When did he notice that, between the Spire and here, when did that change? Why hadn't he thought about this until now? The more human his thoughts, the less human he seemed...

His thoughts were interrupted by Dorian gently running a hand along his back, letting it come to rest on his shoulder. Dorian was wearing the Inquisition-standard beige silk pajamas, looking better than everyone else ever did in them. Cole leaned his head against Dorian's hand, the fabric of Dorian's sleeve cool and watery against his neck. “Are there spirit astronomers, do you know?” Dorian wondered.

“There aren't the same stars in any two places in the fade. And spirits look out, not up.”

“Mmm. A shame. Perhaps you could become the first.” Dorian sleepily rested his head on Cole's shoulder. “Maybe we could co-author something. I doubt anyone will believe me if I publish something with my only source being that a spirit told me.”

“Sometimes when you say spirit you think it. Sometimes you think demon. Sometimes you don't think anything.” Cole looked down.

“Hmm.” Dorian traced small circles on his shoulder. Cole could hear him trying not to think about it. “I'm sure my knowledge of the stars pales in comparison to yours. And here I was thinking to impress you by pointing out all the constellations.”

“Constellations... Stories in stars, sewn together by scholars' strings. I never learned them.”

“Ah, you didn't? Then I'll get my wish after all.” Dorian took Cole's hand in his and used it to point. “Here, look. The brightest ones are Eluvia with her head in the clouds, she of sacrifice and mystery. She's made of eight stars, like a cat's cradle. To her left is Judex, that one's easy. Six stars, nicely symmetrical. The sword of justice, or mercy as the Chantry would have it. Hmm, who else...” Dorian paused to entwine his hand with Cole's, then disentangled it. “Right near Satina is Satinalis, by happy coincidence. It's a bit of a mess to draw, the lines cross – poor design on the ancients' part, in my opinion. Supposed to be a man holding a lyre. Or, in the olden days, a chunk of an elf. Either way, he's the Celebrant. And ah, how could I forget, which way is North...” Dorian swiveled, pointing Cole to the edge of the horizon. “Draconis, the High Dragon. Very neat set of lines in a V, plus his jaws. The interesting thing about him is that no one is sure which dragon he's supposed to be. There are a great many dragons of note, after all. I always wondered about the nameless dragon, what his story was, whether he shed his name on purpose. Or maybe he's meant to be every dragon. Either way... I usually look for him first. Lets me know which way is home.” Dorian let go of Cole's hand and wrapped his arms around his waist. “That's most of the major ones you can see right now. Most of the good ones, anyhow. I never cared for Solium. Far too complicated, and I don't know what we need a constellation of the sun for when it's in the sky all day.”

Cole stared up at the dancing stars, the figures of gods and legends sprawling between them. “Thank you!” he said, marveling. “I couldn't see the lines before. I can see them now.”

“Er... the lines aren't actually there,” Dorian replied. “They're imaginary.”

“Oh.” Cole didn't know how to feel about that. “They're more real than most things.”

“That may well be true.” Dorian hugged Cole tighter and rested his chin on Cole's shoulder. Cole leaned back onto him and they stared up together. Dorian rocked back and forth very slightly. Cole turned so he could kiss Dorian, and this time Dorian obliged with hungry vigor, the darkness freeing him from whatever fear he had before. The infinite reflection of sensation was overwhelming now, and as much as Cole enjoyed the feeling of Dorian's lips on his, he always had to be the first one to pull away when his mind started reeling.

Dorian nuzzled him, and Cole grinned. “Are you being a cat?” Cole asked.

“You'd be surprised how often people draw that comparison,” Dorian replied. Cole scratched behind his ears, and Dorian smirked and leaned in to his hand. “As appropriate a response as that is, I'm afraid I can't purr for you, so the similarities end there.” Dorian rested his head on Cole's shoulder again, and Cole could hear his thoughts blurring into sleep. “Nnnn. I like it far too much out here with you. I'll never make it back to sleep at this rate.”

“You were having bad dreams.” Cole could sense them, half forgotten and yet lingering on the edge of manifesting at any moment. Visions of dark corners of golden palaces, pomegranate seeds scattered across a marble floor, a horned demon only visible out of the corner of one's eye.

“That I was. These past few weeks I've hardly been able to catch a decent night's sleep. It's unusual for me, really.”

That wouldn't do. Cole was sure he could help with that somehow. “I think I could stop the nightmares, if you want me to.”

“And how would you propose to do that?” Dorian looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“I think... If I held that part of your mind that rests in the Fade, if I stayed with you and surrounded you, I could protect you.”

“That does sound nice. I might appreciate that.” Dorian interlaced his hand with Cole's. “You've just invited yourself into my bed, haven't you?”

“Have I? I think you might have just invited me yourself. I can't tell,” Cole replied.

Dorian gave him a mischievous smile. “Well, supposing you ended up in my bed, I think we could each pin the blame on the other, and neither of us would be the wiser.”

Cole smiled back. “I think I would like that very much.” Spending a few hours lying pressed against Dorian, arms around him, sounded so perfect.

“Then it's settled. I can't decide which I'm more excited about, spending the night with you or getting a decent night's sleep.” Dorian pretended to think for a moment. “Nope, it's you. Come here, you. I've racked up enough sleep debt that you've got a fair bit of work cut out for you.” He took Cole's hand and motioned him back to his room, and Cole gave the constellations one last glance before blissfully following.

 

 


	8. Far Too Much Light and Noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, sorry for the lag between chapters! My life has been so crazy these past few weeks. I was drunk in a hot tub three times in one week, on two different coasts! And I signed a lease! And I dyed my hair pink and blue! And my grandma turned 90! And I managed to simulate a sparse gamma using only I to I connections which you don't need to know what that means but it's difficult.
> 
> Ahem. Here's the chapter! Some cuddling, some dream sequences, our heroes GET COCKBLOCKED YET AGAIN but AT LEAST SOMEONE'S DICK MAKES AN APPEARANCE. I hope you like it when dudes talk about their feelings cause that's what happens in this one. Events will pick up soon, I have the next 2 or so chapters planned for once. Also, chapter title is from "Death is Not a Parallel Move", which is absolutely Cole's theme song and I urge you to check it out.
> 
> Also! If you like reading my writing July will be a good time for you because I am doing CAMP NANOWRIMO. Not only will I be working on this fic, I'll be working on two other fics, both Cole-centered! Colequest 2015! I'll probably be posting roughly as I go, too, because editing is for chumps. Here's the link if you wanna track my progress. http://campnanowrimo.org/campers/demiincarnate/novels/colequest-2015-a-spirited-dragon-age-fanfic-tryptich

Cole supposed this was the closest he had come to sleeping like humans did, half in, half out of the Fade. But unlike humans' effortless fall through the Veil, Cole was keeping a careful vigil, straining to be in two places at once. The Fade still frightened him, still felt like yet another place in his past where he was a person he never wanted to be again. But he was learning to stare into it unafraid, lock eyes with the too-familiar shapes beyond it until they backed away. It was mentally exhausting; he hadn't realized how fragile Dorian was, how difficult it would be to protect him. Dorian had carefully cultivated a garden around his mind in his dreams, and walked the sunlit paths of his memories unconcerned, but beneath every rosebush black snakes writhed. The confidence was as much an act here as it was in real life, and it only worked because Dorian made himself believe it. There was a loneliness in him as he walked the contemplative paths, a kindred feeling with pride and desire and rage and despair who lurked just out of reach behind the thorns. He had to turn from them as he did from everyone, eat not of the fruit nor touch it lest he die. Cole wanted desperately to reach out to him, to tell him he was there to hold his hand, but that would mean leaving his watch, and worse, entering the Fade entirely...

It was long after Cole could feel the rays of the true sun that Dorian started to grow drowsy in the Fade and wander back to the real world. It was such a relief when Cole could finally reach him, and take Dorian by the hand. Dorian couldn't see him, but he smiled, and Cole could almost believe it was a smile at him.

And then Dorian was back in the world, and Cole was too, wrapped around him in a much more literal way. It was a shock to suddenly feel the reality of sensation pressing in, cloth and air and breath all different and strange in texture. Dorian didn't seem to have the same reaction, though; he sighed, snuggled back against Cole, took his hand, and fell back asleep.

Cole did not find this sleep thing terribly relaxing at all. He still clearly didn't understand how humans did it. He struggled to follow Dorian back into the Fade, but was too exhausted to stand guard, and collapsed back into the physical. For once, the real world felt comfortable. And part of that was exhaustion, but part of it was that Dorian was here, warm and solid and comforting, enough to drown out the buzz of the rest of the world. Gratefully, Cole pulled himself closer, leaning into Dorian's shoulder. The silk of his pajamas felt lovely, but nicer still was the feeling of human warmth just beyond it, and skin to skin where their faces touched, soft and subtle, with a faint heartbeat. Closer, he wanted to be closer. Cole tightened his grip across Dorian's chest, nuzzled his cheek, rubbed against him-

Oh. Um. Arousal. That was what that was. Well then. The memory of how it felt dawned on Cole with embarrassment. He felt small and childish. As well he might. His human self had died when he was 12, after all, and that was the last time he had felt anything similar. For so many years he had only felt the excitement of cold mercy, of vengeance, of being seen for the power he was, of bloodlust... No, no, no. He couldn't think of those things now, in a soft bed in a warm sunny room. Not with Dorian here, handsome and elegant and strong and damn it Cole was extremely hard right now and if Dorian were awake he could feel it and why did this have to be what was happening. Cole gripped Dorian tighter, almost angrily, and buried his face in Dorian's shoulder and tried not to think too much.

Dorian stirred, shuffled a little and pried Cole's arm away from him, and rolled over to face him. Cole couldn't look him in the eye, and averted his gaze to the pillow, suddenly conscious of how unkempt and flushed he looked, how young he felt, how probably he wasn't handsome at all and Dorian had been lying to himself. Then Dorian stroked his face, and Cole heard his feelings: the wry curiosity he had about everything but especially Cole, perfect sleepy calm, great contentment at having woken up in bed with someone so charming and strange and who hadn't left in the night. Cole looked at Dorian then, and Dorian took that moment to kiss him.

Kissing had felt good before, but now it felt like lightning in Cole's mind. It suddenly made sense, the way their mouths moved, the way Cole wanted to press hungrily in for more and the way Dorian responded in kind. Cole let himself bite this time, scraping his teeth along Dorian's lower lip before taking a breath. Dorian _liked_ that. Cole knotted his hand in Dorian's hair and pressed against him, sliding one leg between Dorian's so they could be closer, hand slipping under his shirt and up his back. Dorian's desire was quite loud now, ringing in Cole's mind and drowning out the sounds of the outside world, almost encroaching at the edges of his vision. Dorian responded by moving a hand under Cole's shirt and up his chest, and it felt tingling and electric and so good, and by kissing along Cole's jaw and down his neck, and Cole gasped.

And it was happening again. There was too much touch, too many feelings, Dorian's mind was too loud. Cole was overwhelmed, and he was blissful and thrilled but also there were dark tendrils at the corner of his mind and his vision now, and Dorian was very bright and loud, and the rest of the world was becoming hazy. Cole pushed Dorian to the mattress and rolled on top of him. There was too much excitement and Cole was so aroused and so hungry and wanted to be closer, wanted to be _within..._ Here lay the abyss again, and this time Cole had no choice but to leap.

 

* * *

 

 

“Cole?” Dorian asked. “Are you... alright there?”

Cole looked down at him, darkly, and didn't speak. His breath was heavy. Groggily, Dorian understood. This was different from last time, but not so different. Cole had definitely been human seconds ago, all clumsy lust and fervor and confusion, and now... his eyes were blank, and sharp, and there was no hesitation in his movements. Cole smothered Dorian with a kiss again, pressing against him, writhing deviously. Dorian broke free with a gasp. “So this is how it's going to be with you, is it?” he asked, grinning. “When things get heated your devilish side reappears? I think I can handle that.” He gripped Cole by the chin and leaned up to kiss him even more fiercely in return. Humanized as Cole might be most of the time, Dorian had to admit that he was very, very attracted to this inhuman version, all strength and fervor and whiplike motion. He appreciated a man who could be rough with him. What was sex without a bit of fury?

Cole slammed Dorian back down into the mattress and clawed at the buttons of his pajama top, breathing roughly into his ear. “Mmm. Don't tear anything, my friend, these clothes are Inquisition property.” Dorian snaked his hands along Cole's back, scratching a bit with his nails, and Cole wriggled deliciously against his groin in response. His breath hissed against Dorian's neck, bitingly cold.

...Cold? Wait, what. Dorian struggled to push back against Cole, and Cole turned to look at him, tilting his neck in a weirdly predatory way. He grinned. He had way, way too many teeth. There were teeth behind his teeth. Cole hissed, echoing, and lunged forward.

“Wow, nope.” Dorian's fight instincts kicked in, and he instantly threw Cole off of him with a combination of strength and mana. Cole tumbled off the bed and onto the ground. Well, now Dorian knew the last thing people saw before they became abominations. A rather inappropriate train of thought, Dorian chastised himself, considering his company. Rude. Not as frightening as his other thoughts had been, though, about how many similar toothed grins he had seen in battle, before he had engulfed them in flame, sending them screaming to their deaths...

“Dorian!” Cole scrabbled for the bedsheets and scrambled back onto the bed, his usual awkward self. “Dorian, I'm so sorry, I don't think I was me, I almost hurt you-”

Dorian sat up. “No you didn't. No offense, friend, but when you're unarmed and don't have the element of surprise on your side, you're no match for a well-trained mage such as myself. And I am never unarmed.” Dorian could see how upset Cole was, though. The spirit was panting, eyes darting like a frightened animal. Hopefully he could read that Dorian himself really wasn't that shaken, as weird as the experience had been. Fascinated, aroused, a little gladdened that Cole wasn't completely human, even. The main thing he was worried about was how poorly Cole seemed to be taking this. Dorian had thought that last time the issue was that he was taking things too fast, letting his thoughts overpower Cole's, but this time he had let Cole take the lead, had only responded to Cole's own actions...

“No! Don't you see?” Cole wrung his hands nervously, kneeling on the corner of the bed, seeming unsure whether to let himself get closer to Dorian. His eyes were wide in fright, and Dorian couldn't help but feel for him. “I thought I was human now, I know binding doesn't work on me, I feel human, too human, but I'm not! It is what they say, I am a demon, I'll always be a demon, I'm not safe, they should- they should-”

“Cole.” Dorian took both of Cole's hands, intertwined them in his own. “You're making a bigger deal out of this than it is. All that happened was that for whatever reason, you seem to enter a somewhat... unusual state when aroused, and get too rough. If you want to work on controlling it, I'm sure we can. I'm fairly knowledgeable about spirit magic, there should be a straightforward enough fix.” Honestly, though he didn't want to admit it, Dorian was peeved. Whatever indomitable force Cole became in bed, Dorian liked it, really liked it. True, he had fallen for the soft-spoken, good-natured man that Cole usually was, but he wouldn't have fallen if it hadn't been for that dangerous allure, the hidden viciousness, the thrill of finally being able to have one of them on his own terms...

“Demon. You didn't think the word but you meant it. You _want_ me to be one of them, a creature of hurt.” Cole withdrew his hands, almost sneering. “Solas was right about you. I shouldn't have trusted you.”

Dorian was beginning to realize that had fucked this one up. He shook his head, trying to dispel his selfish fantasies (and questions about what in the void Solas had said about him). “I... I'm sorry, Cole. I thought that becoming... that way... might not be so unusual to you. I didn't realize it meant so much for you not to.” He searched Cole's expression for any indication that he might be succeeding at damage control.

Cole turned away, and didn't speak. Finally, after a few moments: “I killed a lot of people once.”

Well, this wasn't a cheery direction for the conversation to take. “Who were they? Had they... done something?” Dorian asked.

“No,” Cole replied quietly. “They were innocent. Mages, in the White Spire. Mages who wanted me to be a demon.”

Dorian's stomach turned. “Did they summon you? Bind you?”

Cole shook his head slowly. “All they did was feel despair. Enough for them to draw me to them. To make me the thing they wanted me to be. To put them out of their misery.” He rocked back and forth slightly. “It felt similar. Very similar. Desire sounds different, but the harmony is the same.”

Oh Maker. “I... didn't know that about you. I'm sorry.” Perhaps against his better judgment, Dorian felt less fear than pity. Cole was a good person, _such_ a good person. For him to have done such a thing, he must have been deeply tormented, confused, put in an impossible situation that no good man could resolve. Maker knew what the conditions were like in the Southern circles. Plenty of mages imprisoned there probably would have been driven to suicide had they had a blade of their own...

“All of those things are true,” Cole said softly. “Thank you for thinking them. But it also felt good. Very good. It made me feel real, important...”

Of course it did. It was in his nature. To be what people wanted him to be, whether in their darker or happier moments. It was what he continued to do as compassion, just in the opposite direction. Providing a service. Only able to reflect the emotions of others, to siphon their reality into his own. Like a mirror, or a puppet.

“It's not only like that,” Cole said, not defensively, but somewhat wistful. “It can be nice, to be a spirit. Happier, simpler, freer. Being only good. Not having to be a person to people, to only worry about them, not you.”

“Do you want to go back to being a spirit, then?” Dorian asked. “Or would you rather be a human?”

Cole stared at Dorian, very carefully. “No one's ever asked me that.”

“Well, I'm asking you now.”

Cole looked down at his hands. “I want to not hurt people. And for people not to be afraid of me. That's what I told Varric and Solas and Eshaal. And Eshaal decided that meant I should be more human.”

Dorian clicked his tongue. “Besides that. What do you want for yourself? Regardless of other people.”

“That is what I want.” Cole eyed him warily.

“Come on, there must be something you want where it would matter one way or the other. Glory? Love? Cheesecake? A mabari?”

Cole continued to stare at Dorian with those wide pale eyes. He was probably sifting through all kinds of delightful things in Dorian's mind. Dredging up childhood memories to try to explain his behavior, no doubt. There were people who claimed to be mind healers in Tevinter who did that for a living, that and hypnosis. Dorian wasn't fond. “You're different,” Cole finally said.

“How so?” Dorian asked.

Cole paused. “You like men.”

“Wow, Cole. Good job. That's a very astute observation. How many times did I have to make out with you for that to sink in? At least it didn't take you until we actually fucked to figure it out.”

Cole shot him a glare. “I _wasn't finished._ ”

“Sorry. I'm bitter about how often people see fit to bring that up. I have many other character traits, you know. Most of them are far more interesting.”

“It's true. But that one is important to you. All of them are important to you.” Cole paused, reading thoughts again. “ _Mariage blanc_ , they call it in Orlais,” Cole said in an odd tone, and Dorian realized sickeningly that he was imitating Dorian's father. “It's not even an uncommon thing. No one will care who you're actually sleeping with. All you have to do is withstand it long enough to produce one heir, that's all we ask. That's how your mother and I got by, after all, and you turned out splendidly. Except for this.”

“How much do I have to bribe you to never quote my father again? Because I will spend every copper I own on cheesecakes and mabaris if that's what it takes.”

Cole ignored him. “But you wouldn't do it. You loved him but you wouldn't change to make him happy.”

Ah, the pieces were beginning to fall into place. Dorian half smiled. “Have I not given you my 'screaming on the inside' quip yet?”

“Most people are screaming on the inside.”

“They are?” He hadn't gotten that response before.

Cole nodded. “Some are subtle, almost silent suffering. But I can hear all of them.”

“Oh. That sounds... unpleasant.”

Cole shrugged. “That's what I meant when I said you were different. You have pain, but you don't scream. You fight flame with flame.”

“Really?” Dorian half laughed. “That's it? The lack of screaming? I must be a relief to be around, then. Music to your ears.”

“You're a very beautiful song. Soaring sound, haunting harmony, majestic melody. I like listening to you.” Cole smiled, a bit.

That was far cuter than should be allowed. “I'm sure I would say the same about you if I heard you like that, but you'll have to settle for my enjoying your voice the regular way. And your looks, and your charming personality, if those factor into your musical character.” Cole blushed, and Dorian squealed internally. Drat, he probably heard that.

“I don't understand, though.” Cole closed his eyes, listening hard. “You don't hide. You don't care if people are afraid of you, and you aren't careful to not hurt people.”

“It's true.” Dorian folded his arms. “I quite like it when people are afraid of me, in fact. They should be. Goes along with the not minding hurting people.”

Cole opened his eyes. He had very faint eyelashes, Dorian noticed. “But why?”

“Why don't I care?” Dorian grinned. “Because I am a very selfish man, and I do what pleases me, and let the consequences come as they may. And so far, save some intermediate pitfalls, it's worked. I rather prefer being on this side of the Inquisition's blades.”

“But you still help people. You spend a lot of time helping people.”

“I happen to not be without empathy. I help people because it pleases me to do so. In the end, it's selfish.” Let Cole chew on _that._

Cole appeared to be chewing on that. “You're very interesting. I like you.”

“I'd gathered, but it's good to hear it affirmed.” The man had a talent for making Dorian happy, he had to admit. Unnerved and concerned by turns as well, but mostly happy. He was a worthwhile endeavor for that much at least.

“You asked me whether I'd rather be a spirit or a human.” Cole closed his eyes again.

“And? What'll it be?” Dorian leaned forward, very interested to hear this.

“I still don't know. I don't think I have enough self to know. But I would like to try having more self. To be selfish. But still help people. Like you.”

“I'm glad you've chosen me as your role model,” said Dorian. “I am a _great_ influence.”

“How do I do it? Be selfish? Will you teach me?” Cole plucked at the bedsheets.

“There's not much to it. Find something you enjoy, just because it makes you happy, and consume it for its own sake. Fine wines, music, parties...” Dorian frowned. “None of those seem like they'd be quite your thing. Maybe music?”

Cole shook his head. “It sounds so different when people make it. It's difficult to get used to. Maybe one day.”

Dorian couldn't help but wonder what non-manmade music sounded like, but he moved on. “What about cake? Was I on track with the cheesecake?”

“I don't know. I do like cake, but I don't know if I need food. I don't know what I'd do with a whole one. I might get sick of trying to eat it all, and then I'd have to stop liking cake, which would be unfortunate.”

“Cake might be a bad road to go down, then. It's a bit of a dead end, anyway. Hmm.” Dorian pondered for a moment. “What else do you enjoy?”

“I... enjoy looking at you,” Cole said, timidly. “And being with you. And... near... you.”

Ah, a newfound ability to flirt and a sexual awakening. What a combination. Dorian grinned. “And you'd like to enjoy that selfishly, would you?” Paradoxical, but perhaps feasible...

“Wait, you had a good idea. Go back.” Cole seemed to perk up.

“I did?” Damn, Cole was starting to be able to think Dorian's thoughts before he did. “I don't think I thought anything in particular. Unless...” It's true Dorian _had_ been trying to think of what acts might qualify as enjoying someone selfishly, but he doubted Cole had meant to go down that road. That was a road for Dorian to go on a delightful private mental journey down later.

“No,” Cole interrupted. “You should tell me what you're thinking. Here, now.”

Bossy, weren't we. “Just that there are, ah, certain things one can do, that are more one-sided than others, and which might not provoke your... reaction.” For some reason this was far more awkward to talk about than to actually do. Dorian wasn't used to people being quite so inexperienced. He was pretty sure he was blushing. What was this, grade school?

“What kind of... Oh.” Cole's gaunt face lit up with fascination. “Giving but not getting, kneeling in devotion, focus on how he feels, savor his sounds... _That's_ what that is. Yes. Let's do that.” Cole leaned towards Dorian, eyes wide.

“That's, ah, forward of you.” Dorian was definitely blushing.

“You were naked in front of me yesterday,” Cole pointed out.

“Yes, well, then we weren't talking, we were just _doing_ things,” Dorian protested. “It's different.”

“Then just do things. Now.” Cole put a hand on the back of Dorian's neck and drew him in for a sloppy kiss. Maker, Cole was hot when he was demanding. Dorian tried not to think too hard about it as he returned the kiss a little too clumsily. Keeping his mind blank. For Cole's sake. Yes.

Dorian pulled away, a hand on Cole's shoulder. “Do I detect a hint of desperation?”

“Yes. We've had to stop twice now. I want to _know_. And I'm getting angry.”

“Just how I like my men, intellectually curious and sexually frustrated. Well then. Let's not waste any more time.” Dorian pushed Cole back and down against the baseboard. He was beginning to feel back in his element again. This was a game he knew how to play. “A few general rules, before we begin? To make this a learning experience?” Heh. He did enjoy the rules part.

“Yes?” Cole asked, gaze locked on him.

“Neither of us are going to think about me. I'm going to keep my mind as blank as possible, and you're going to focus on you. Pay attention to everything you're feeling. Enjoy yourself. For the time being, I'm just a pretty mouth. Understood?”

Cole nodded once, sharply. He looked frighteningly determined, like an unrepentant criminal awaiting execution. Or the executioner himself. He'd cheer up soon enough. Dorian gently pushed him the rest of the way onto the mattress and gave him one more soft kiss, trailing down his jaw, before pulling away. Cole closed his eyes, breath shallow. Dorian knelt and unlaced Cole's trousers.

Cole was already erect, and looked like he had been for some time. Bright red, reasonably long if a little thin, curved slightly to the left. Dorian appreciated a penis with character. Dorian ran one finger along Cole's length, starting at the base and slowing as he reached the tip. The ensuing moan from Cole was very hard not to think about. The things Dorian put himself through for others. Dorian took a breath and retraced his finger's path with his tongue. Cole shuddered, making a strangled noise, and Dorian could see his grip on the mattress tighten.

“Hey Dorian. Your door's unlocked. Thought you should know,” said the Iron Bull as he turned the doorknob.

Cole vanished, and Dorian immediately hid under the blankets.

 


	9. So Much Anger and Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for being on unannounced hiatus for so long. I'm not dead! Mathematics courses and anxiety strugs got in my way D: But I bring you sweet tidings of your pals Dorian, Cole, and The Iron Bull! In this chapter, horrible and hilarious things happen to Dorian and I laugh.
> 
> I'm thinking of inserting another chapter earlier in this fic, around chapter 2 or 3. Just a heads up that that might happen instead of a typical update!
> 
> Also, I started a couple of new fics in case I get writer's blocked on this one, which happens! I'm posting one now, it's a Handers fic since I've been playing DA2! It's a scientist AU. In it, science occurs. Mad science. Check it out.

“Dorian? It's almost noon, pal. Time to get up.”

Dorian lay still with the blankets clutched over his head. This was not an eventuality he had planned nearly well enough for. He tried to figure out his next move in these few dark silent seconds, but all that was going through his head was a running mantra of _shit, shit, shit._ Maker, he must look like an idiotic child right now.

A large hand lifted the hem of the blanket off his face. “Uh... are you trying to hide, there? Your disguise needs work.” The Iron Bull stood above him, grinning and blocking out the sun. Backlit was a good look for him, he had that sinister hulking horned shadow aesthetic going.

Dorian squinted and blinked, and lowered the blanket off of his face. “You seem to have found me.”  
“Ben-Hasserath training pays off.” Bull gave a low chuckle, but Dorian noticed he was also glancing around the room. “You know, I could have sworn I heard you having a conversation in here. But I guess my ears deceived me, huh?”

“Oh! Um.” Dorian scanned the room as furtively as he was able. He didn't know whether or not Cole was still here, but he certainly wasn't visible. “No, of course not. Just catching up on sleep. Warm day and all. Sleeptalking, maybe?”

“Well, then I apologize for waking you. I was sure you were...” and here Bull bent one knee so that he was leaning on the mattress slightly, shifting it with his weight, “...already _up.”_ He was looming very directly over Dorian now. Naked chest in close proximity. Oh, how Dorian wished Qunari wore shirts.

Dorian sighed, still not moving from his defensive curl underneath the blankets. “Was that supposed to be an innuendo?”

“Do you want it to be?” Bull tilted his head down towards Dorian. In the shadow his grin just had the barest glint of teeth.

“I mean, I would much prefer something cleverer, but coming from the man who thinks 'ride the bull' is a clever pick up line every time, I suppose it'll have to do.” Dorian uncurled himself and pulled off the blankets. “And I don't suppose you'll be letting me get out of this bed, either.”

“You don't seem to be in any rush to leave,” Bull said, putting a finger under Dorian's chin to force his gaze upward. Dorian was always impressed by just how _massive_ his hands were. He sucked in air through his teeth, hopefully quietly enough that Bull didn't notice. “And if you weren't up before, you certainly are now.” Bull looked down very pointedly. Hard to believe a man this unsubtle could have been a spy.

Of course, Dorian _could_ just shove Bull away and continue with his day... but he had yet to decide if he _wanted_ to. He would grant that Bull's interruption had been rude, but that came with the territory, perhaps desirably so. And the morning was so warm, the blankets soft, the wall of muscle hulking over him so imposingly solid... and Bull had been as astute as always in gauging just how aroused Dorian was. “Well, I was on the fence, but you've been just crass enough to seduce me.” He ran his hand along Bull's chest, shivering very slightly at the smooth, shiny feel of his skin. “You're lucky I've woken up in such a generous mood.” He reached into the hem of Bull's pants and hitched his fingers underneath, feeling hair catch against his nails.

Bull knelt over Dorian, arms caging him in on either side. “Oh, sure you've just woken up. It's hours past dawn, your shirt's half unbuttoned, your blankets are everywhere, you're already all flushed and debauched... but no, you just woke up like that.” Bull's voice lowered to a hoarse whisper as he ran a hand along Dorian's shoulder and neck, sound and gesture both halfway between sensual and threatening. Dorian said nothing but grinned in response, or was he baring his teeth? He hadn't seriously thought to trick Bull; sometimes he wondered what game he himself was trying to play. “Now, I told you I didn't mind you having your own fun. You know that much. And yet you're still lying to me... It's almost as though you think you're dirty for it. Like you want to be punished.”

He leaned in further, putting more pressure on Dorian's neckline, definitely threatening now. Dorian replied with nothing more than “Perhaps,” smirking, eyes locked on Bull's. Challenging him, but definitely not doing anything to stop him. He placed his one hand on Bull's waist and dug the other beneath the clasps of his belt.

“And now you're trying to get the jump on me,” Bull rumbled. “Look who thinks he's clever.” In a swift motion, Bull grabbed both of Dorian's wrists in his left hand and pinned them over Dorian's head. Dorian's heart leaped. “Trying to provoke me, huh? You're succeeding. Behaving like this is just _asking_ for a beating.”

“Am I, now? Go on. Try me.” Dorian was definitely grinning now. He raised one knee, rubbing it slowly against Bull's groin.

Bull growled in response and pinned Dorian down with his weight, wedging his right hand between their chests. “Oh, you're definitely asking for it,” he hissed in Dorian's ear, stubble scratching the side of Dorian's face. “You won't just be getting punished. You'll be getting _ruined_.” Bull's voice was even but had that edge of cold frenzy to it that sent a shudder through Dorian like nothing else. Bull yanked Dorian's shirt open, buttons scraping between them, and Dorian cared not one whit whether it tore. Dorian pressed himself up against Bull, running his lips and then teeth along his cheek and jaw. Bull snaked his hand down and into Dorian's pants, grabbing him roughly. Dorian choked out a moan before he could stop himself. He was substantially more aroused than he had realized. Still hadn't calmed down from his earlier adventure with Cole, he supposed. Well, it was a damn good thing Bull had arrived when he did. Dorian rocked up against Bull's hand, breath hitching in his throat at the feeling of his rough warm palm. Bull chuckled, low and sinister, before sliding his hand lower, cupping Dorian's rear.

And then suddenly disappointment fell over Bull's features, and he hung his head, accidentally hitting his forehead against Dorian's in the process. “Fuck,” he said, tone suddenly far more mundane. “Dammit. I forgot.”

Dorian winced at the impact. “What, what did you forget? I'm pretty sure if you look in the top drawer of the nightstand there-”

“No,” said Bull, sheepish. He withdrew his hand, much to Dorian's chagrin. “The reason I was here in the first place was that I was supposed to tell you that you and the Inquisitor are leaving for Val Royeaux at noon. In a quarter of an hour. You've got an appointment with a tailor.”

“I've what.” Dorian craned his head to glance out the window. Definitely almost noon. Goddamn it. “Well, then hurry up! We've got time!” He arched up against Bull, undignified in his desperation.

“We... really don't,” said Bull.

“Oh come on, I'm five minutes _maximum_ from coming. I don't have time to do a proper morning routine anyway. Come on, finish.” Dorian resented the whine creeping into his voice.

“Yeah, uh, I'm pretty sure the boss was already mad at you, and between prep and aftercare and you getting dressed-”

“I don't _care!_ We can so something fast, then. We don't have to do the usual – like, you can use your hand or your mouth or something -”

“I... really?” Bull looked so _doubtful_ at that that Dorian had the fleeting urge to spit in his face. “Uh, I mean... I guess... I mean, I wouldn't usually, but if you want that...”

Dorian narrowed his eyes. “Wait, what do you mean you wouldn't usually?”

“Not... really my style, I guess? If- if it's what you want, though-” Bull moved his hand back down to Dorian's hip.

“ _If_?” Bull's grip on Dorian's wrists had waned, and Dorian capitalized on that fact to grab Bull's hand and pull it away. “What, it'll be an act of charity? You'll deign to handjobs for poor Dorian's sake?”

“Hey, no, it's not like that. I said I'd do it.” Bull looked more hurt than peeved, to his credit.

“Look at you, so conscientious.” Dorian pulled his other hand back and moved backwards to sit up. “If it's that much trouble for you I'll do it myself.”

“Dorian. Hey.” Bull rested a hand on his shoulder and gave him that kind-but-firm look he used so often as damage control. “I didn't mean to piss you off, but I get why you're angry. I kinda... put what I said wrong. I'll make it up to you.”

“Oh, no, you said what you meant. You barge into my room uninvited, interrupt what I'm doing, initiate sex unbidden, and then immediately get pouty when I suggest it not be exactly on your terms.” Dorian wrenched his shoulder away. “You've conveyed your meaning quite clearly. And I do believe you've torn one of the buttons off of these lovely inquisition pajamas.”

“I – I mean, I don't have to act that way. I thought it was part of the thing we had going? You know, big, rough Qunari takes charge of feisty little Vint. I was under the impression you liked it.”

“Yes, because our relationship is just one big scene for you to act out, right? Just playing your assigned role, no choice involved. Demands of the Qun and all that.” Dorian shoved Bull away. “Get out, then. I can handle the rest.”

Bull backed off and stood, but his expression was still pleading. “Hey, Dorian, it doesn't have to be like that-”

“Yes. Yes it does.” Dorian would have stood and pushed him out the door himself were he not too disheveled to risk anyone catching a glimpse. He could feel himself reddening with embarrassment, and felt even more rage at Bull for it. “You will leave. Now.” He raised his hand as though to cast, just a shadow of a threat. Bull hastily retreated, and shut the door carefully behind him as Dorian scowled and clutched the blanket over his chest.

When Bull left, Dorian allowed himself to breathe normally again. While it was true he had had the right to be angry, there was no reason for him to have blown up quite like that. Where had all that rage come from? Dorian sighed and shook his head. These past couple of days had been a whirlwind of emotion – it had been what, three days since he had first kissed Cole? All that had happened in three ill thought-out days. Not nearly enough time to process that he had suddenly fallen into an entanglement with Cole, of all people, nor what that meant for his relationship with Bull. What had Dorian's life turned into? Didn't he have a world to save and a nation to redeem after that? How had he gotten bogged down in this bizarre interspecies romantic comedy?

Those were all important questions, but an ache in his loins reminded him of a more pressing one: given that he wasn't going to get properly ready anyway, did he have time to rub one out before he left? Ordinarily it wasn't a question he would entertain, but at this point the whole situation was utterly ridiculous anyway and Dorian really felt he owed himself at least a modicum of satisfaction. Dorian glanced out the window. Fuck it, it'd take a minute and a half at this point anyway.

Dorian leaned back and undid his fly, rolling his eyes at himself. This was almost a chore. Though he did have some delightful mental images to work off of... As he toyed with himself, Dorian closed his eyes and recalled the feeling of Bull atop him, imagining large coarse hands instead of his own. His fury returned, simmering, but he channeled it into fervent vigor. He and Bull could do angry quite well, fingers digging into each other, bucking with the ferocity to throw one another off, thrusting like a swordsman's parry, crying out in rage...

Huh. That wasn't working. That usually worked. Dorian tried gripping a little tighter and jerking a little harder. Nope, he had lost his train of thought. Funny, usually he was so into having an angry wank. Time to pick a new object of affection before his erection flagged any more than it already had. Dorian was about to conjure up his mental Cullen before realizing he had another option.

Cole was a candidate, yes? Dorian puzzled briefly over why that felt strange to him. He had already spent the night with the man, after all. And yet, some part of Dorian wanted to push the thought of Cole away, back into the cellar of strange drunken trysts only to be brought back up on lonely evenings far too late at night. There was shame there, at how he had gotten himself into this whole mess... but he was losing daylight. May as well give Cole a shot, see how that felt. Dorian closed his eyes and leaned back again, imagining Cole atop him, kissing him, hand entangled in his hair, face pressed against his with clumsy energy.. Cole trailing long cool fingers along him, taking him in hand, replacing Dorian's palm with his as he slowed and intensified... Cole running his other hand along Dorian's chest, toying with one nipple delicately, whispering in his ear in that haunting voice: “ _Let me. Please. I want to do this for you._ ”

Dorian's breath caught in his throat as he came, hand clasped tightly around himself. It was a solidly pleasant orgasm, not too short, sending a shiver up his spine and a warmth in its wake. Nicely done, imaginary Cole. He'd be a keeper. Dorian grabbed a handkerchief from his nightstand to clean himself off and wiped the hair from his brow with his free hand. Time to get up and get dressed. He'd puzzle out that unpleasantness with Bull later.

“It's because he doesn't love you,” said Cole.

Dorian whirled around. Cole was seated against the nightstand, knees against his chest. “Holy shitting mother of Andraste you've been in here the whole time haven't you.”

“When would I have left?” Cole asked, voice as even as ever. Funny, he didn't seem to understand yet that Dorian still had plenty of outrage to spare, and that it was going to be unleashed on him imminently.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe sometime around when that other fellow started trying to have sex with me, or even around when he left and I had some time to myself, as it were, or frankly any time before you opened your fool mouth and alerted me to your presence? Really, any of those times.” Dorian hung over the side of the bed to glare at Cole, but Cole was hidden behind his hat as usual, seeming infuriatingly unperturbed.

“It's not that he can't love, though he doesn't think he can, not in that way,” Cole continued. Was he trying to anger Dorian as much as possible? He was succeeding. “But not now, not you. You're too much, too fast, too passionate and pining. You both think you want what the other one has, but you don't. He doesn't know he wants slow sincerity, you don't think you want what you won't let yourself have. You think it's not for you, but it's not _for_ anyone.” Cole paused to think, but not long enough to let Dorian get a word in edgewise. “I could help him. And I could help you. I could love you.” Cole said that last as if it was dawning on him, as though it was an intriguing new project.

“What a fascinating and completely incorrect analysis.” Dorian growled. He threw his pillow at Cole as hard as he could manage. Cole flinched but made no move to block it. Lucky him Dorian didn't have anything more solid handy. “I'd advise you to keep your nose out of where it doesn't belong lest you find it engulfed in flames. This does not involve you, understood?”

“But it does involve me. You made it involve me.” Cole tilted his head back. “I liked that you thought about me. Helping even before hearing, an imagined me to soothe and sustain – it was nice.”

That was above and beyond the pale. Dorian sat up, rage creeping through every fiber of his being. “Let me be perfectly clear, since you seem to be particularly dense today. You _disgust_ me right now, and I cannot believe you thought sitting here and watching me in several extremely personal moments was at all acceptable. You and your halfassed declarations of love have until the count of five to leave – via the door, where I can see you – before you are on fire. Five.” Dorian held up a hand.

Cole finally met his eyes, and he looked absolutely crestfallen. Boo hoo. “You wanted my help,” he said.

“Four.” Dorian put down his thumb. Cole got up and slunk out the door about as quickly as one could slink.

“Three two one,” said Dorian, for the hell of it, and threw a bolt of fire out the window. “ _Damn_ you. Both of you. All of you. Ugh.” He punched a wall, excess energy crackling away and grounding itself in the stone. He was definitely late, and he was going to have to go to Val Royeaux unwashed and ungroomed.... with the Inquisitor, and whoever else she chose to take with her. Which could include Cole, Bull, or both. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh, what a day. Time to put on pants.


End file.
